The Mockingjay in Flames
by permanentwritersblock
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are trying to live their lives in peace and bring up their children in the new District 12. But just when they think they are free to live normal lives, a new enemy surfaces, hell bent on revenge for a crime neither Katniss nor Peeta committed. Set several years after the end of Mockingjay, entirely Katniss's POV. Its my first fic so reviews are super helpful.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there. This is my first fan fiction (that I've posted, anyway), and I'm a little bit nervous about it. In this chapter, I wanted to introduce Katniss and Peeta again, years after the rebellion ended, living normal lives. To tell you the truth, it's just an introduction to their lives as it is now. But trust me, I'm working on the next, more exciting chapters. So, read, enjoy (or don't...whatever), and leave a review, if you like! I own nothing, of course. All rights are Suzanne Collins'. I just interpreted how I thought it should go...**

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Chapter 1

I launch the sharpened knife across the room, watching as it lodges in the wall next to his head. Of course, I'd never try to hurt him, but it's amusing to watch him jump out the way.

"If I burn myself once more, Peeta, I swear to God, next time I won't miss."

"No need to be throwing knives," he laughs his heart-warming chuckle and his strikingly blue eyes glitter from across the room, where he's taken refuge behind our big wooden table. He crosses the room and takes me by the hands, "It's not hard, Katniss. Just lift the bread out of the oven and put it on the table." I glower at him.

"Stop laughing at me, then!" I grumble as I attempt to lift the innocuous lump of bread from the enormous oven Peeta had insisted on being added to our, in my opinion, much too large house. I can almost hear him smiling as his arms encircle my waist. I drop the loaf on the table and grin up at him, my petty annoyance draining away almost as quickly as it had come.

Here we are, alive, together and perfectly happy in District 12, one of thirteen ever-growing districts ringing the Capitol. The Capitol is the showiest area of Panem, the country that was once North America, once likened by a very elderly man in our District to "the new-age New York". I suppose he must have meant something by his comparison, but it was completely lost on me. Our house, which stands in what once was named Victor's Village but is now just The Village, looks out upon the resurrected District 12. Though we are over a kilometre walk away from the main section of the district, it is still plain that it is in much better condition now than it ever was, with trade between the Districts blossoming and inter-district friendships springing up where tension and mistrust once stood when the corrupt Capitol ruled. Now, we have democracy and almost everyone has a much better way of life—though poverty and starvation still have a strong hold here. It will be some time before it is completely eradicated.

Through the window, we can see our two children, Gloriana and Robin, playing in the lush summer grass. Gloriana's long dark hair streams down her back and fans out around her even though there is not a breath of wind in the air to lift it, and her eyes, the exact replica of her father's, dance in the blistering sunlight. Gloriana has yet a few inches on her brother but he grows quickly and his build is much like Peeta's, strong and stocky though he is only eight years old and she, twelve. Her build is very reminiscent of my own, slight but built for speed.

Robin attempts to keep up with her as she races back and forth across the dandelion filled grass. His wavy blonde hair falls into his grey eyes but I cannot bring myself to cut it. It reminds me strongly of the way Peeta looked when we first met; a time I will never forget.

For a while we stand in silence, Peeta's chin resting on my shoulder and my cheek leaning against his. From a few doors down we can hear drunken warbling emanating from our old friend, Haymitch's house. Haymitch had been our mentor in The Hunger Games, a violent way for the Capitol to remind the Districts that they owned us all. I sigh with the relief I feel that those days are gone. I could never have borne the thought of bringing children into a world that condemns them to an early, bloody death.

Had it not been for Peeta, I would never have survived the Games, and had it not been for me, he would not have made it out either. We protect each other now, just as we always have. Both times we'd been abruptly thrown into the Games we'd sworn to protect each other. As I riffle through my memories of the Games, tensing at the worst ones: when I watched my stylist, Cinna, brutally attacked as I was trapped in a tube before the Games began, when I thought Peeta had been killed or when he'd been taken by the Capitol and tortured for information he never had about the rebellion we'd instigated.

As though sensing my distress, Peeta turns me around to face him and presses his forehead to mine, staring worriedly into my eyes. I smile weakly at him, and once again I am incredibly thankful to have him in my arms. I know I'd probably never have gotten him back from the Capitol without the help of my best friend, Gale. Things were back to the way they should always have been with us, even though he lives an entire days train journey from us now, we still make attempts to see each other as often as possible.

Gale is due to arrive here shortly after lunch, which I've been attempting to prepare for an hour, to no avail. Gale is coming in honour of tomorrows Remembrance Day for District 12. Cooking has never been my strong suit and even though Peeta attempts to teach me what he knows, my brain never soaks it up.

Mercifully, Peeta takes the reins and begins preparing thick watercress sandwiches which he garnishes with home-made crisps—which, of course, he also prepared—and seasoned with salt and spices. Peeta calls out the window for Gloriana and Robin to eat just as the phone begins to ring. I hurry into the hallway and snag the phone before the rings stop, just as they charge into the kitchen one after the other, laughing hysterically.

"Katniss speaking," I say as I lift the phone to my ear, waving at my family to keep the noise down.

"The train from District Two is arriving ma'am," a husky voice relays immediately.

"Thank you, Wade. How is Marie?"

"Getting along just fine, ma'am. Thank you for asking," and with that, the phone goes dead. I smile. Wade is the station master at the bustling train station but he never has much patience for social interaction. I can't blame him. It has taken me a long time to become used to small talk in the streets too. Before the rebellion there'd never been much excuse for mindless chatter. I drop the phone back into place and grab my hunting bow and sheath of arrows.

I poke my head into the kitchen as Robin tosses a crisp at Gloriana who deftly catches it and launches it back long before Robin gathers his wits to stop it. I try to suppress a smile.

"I'm just going to pick up Gale," I tell Peeta who nods and grins at the bow on my back. "I won't be long," I promise. He rolls his eyes and tosses two fresh rolls to me.

"Have fun!" he calls as I tuck the bread into my pocket and pull my hunting knife from the wall by the door, where it lodged after my fit of annoyance earlier, and return it to its leather thong at my hip.

It's been months since I last saw Gale. I've missed our hunting trips, his smiling face and sarcastic comments. I've missed his woodsy smell which mingles with the scent of smoke from his fireplace and his Seam-grey eyes, almost a match for mine. I pick up my pace as the summer sun beats down on my back.

Waving cheerily to those who greet me, I make the journey into town in a relatively short time, considering. I have many names to the people of Panem: the Mockingjay, the Girl on Fire and Katniss Everdeen, but most recently and most unknown, Katniss Mellark. I twist the slim band on the fourth finger of my left hand and smile to myself. Though once I'd been divided between Gale and Peeta, in my heart I've always known I need Peeta Mellark like I need air to breathe.

As I skip into the station, which has an enormous new building designed to receive the incoming trains and passengers, I look all around for a glimpse of Gale but I can't spot him in the crowd. But then, there he is, standing atop a metal bench peering over the heads of the other travellers, searching through the swarm of people. I grin, wave my arms at him and watch as his eyes flicker towards me, a smile spreading across his face. He dives into the crowd and I push through the throng towards him. Finally I move a disgruntled tourist, obviously from the Capitol, clear by the shiny tattoos which decorate her hands, arms and cheekbones, and he appears before me.

I leap into his arms and he catches me and swings me round. We receive a few glances and irritated murmurs but neither of us cares.

"Hey, Catnip. How's things?" he asks. I squeeze him tighter and then release him to look into his face.

"Great," I reply. "How are things with you?"

"Just fantastic." He taps my nose and grabs me by the hand—I don't reject him; there's nothing romantic about it. In his other hand he holds a backpack of clothes and other things he'll need for the days he's staying with us. I lead him through the tumult of people into the much calmer street and we walk quietly, drinking each other in. He's barely changed. His hair is a shade lighter from the sun but his eyes remain unchanged. I take in the elegant cut of his leather jacket and artistically faded jeans. I watch him assess me in this way, knowing he'll certainly be noticing the locket chain visible at my neck and the mockingjay pin on my black vest that will always remain firmly attached to me.

"You look good, Katniss," he tells me. I shake my head, blush rising in my cheeks.

I don't look good, I never have; unless I've been under the capable fingers of my prep team for endless hours or I'm wearing something designed by—I stop that thought in its tracks before the pain crushes me. I'm plain, the same plain I am every day. My braid stretches down my back, I wear no make-up, and I wear skin tight pants for hunting, a plain top and my soft leather boots. Gale sighs and tugs the end of my braid playfully.

"Right, so what are we hunting today?" he asks, as though no time has elapsed between now and his last visit. And it doesn't feel as though it has.

"Hmm, I was thinking we could get some pigs or something, I kind of want bacon" I say thoughtfully. He considers this for a moment, and then his face splits into a smile.

"Let's do it."

"We can't be too long; Peeta's watching Gloriana and Robin. Not that I think for a second he can't handle them, but I don't like leaving them," I say, my words fading out at the end of the sentence. For some reason, I don't think Gale would want to know this.

"As long as Parole Officer Mellark is on the case, they'll be fine," Gale says, saluting in the direction of The Village. I laugh and tug his arm away from his face. He grins again and we resume walking.

"Peeta's protective, is all. We all are. Even you," I say, poking him in the ribs. He nods and pulls me along by the arm.

"I've brought them presents from Two," he tells me.

"Peeta?" I ask, laughing. I can't really picture Gale and Peeta exchanging gifts.

"Yes, I love Peeta," he says sardonically. "For Robin and Gloriana," he corrects me and tugs my arm slightly. I quicken my step to keep pace with him; we're both eager to hunt.

The first place we go is to our spot, our rock ledge which overlooks the valley. We can see everything, but nothing can see us. We sit for a while, enjoying the rolls Peeta made for us and taking in the view. We discuss what we have been doing since we last saw each other: I tell him about the efforts to rebuild District Twelve and the train station. He tells me about his fancy job in District 2 and all the perks he gets from it. The hot rays from the sun are soon too much for me and I start to feel uncomfortably sweaty. The rock is too hot and my feet are becoming unbearably warm in my boots.

"Come on," I say to Gale, standing up and holding out my hand for him to take.

"Where are we going?" he asks, and takes my hand to pull himself up.

"Somewhere we can cool down."

We walk up the hill for a while, following a path I know well. Soon, we come across a small pool of perfectly smooth green water. I used to bathe here with my father when I was young. I slide off my boots and socks and roll up my pant legs. Dipping my feet in the water is so relaxingly cool and pleasant; I close my eyes and lean my head back into the sun, relishing the feeling. Suddenly, water splashes onto my arms and torso and I jerk my eyes open to see Gale surfacing from a dive. He wears just his underwear and a wide grin. I roll my eyes and go back to sunning myself.

"Come in, Katniss," he wheedles. I open one eye and raise an eyebrow. There may be nothing romantic between us but swimming together in our underwear seems a step too far. The water does look tempting, though. I narrow my eyes at him and make a circling motion with my finger, indicating he should turn away. Now, it is his turn to roll his eyes.

"Look away, Gale." I warn him. He obliges but keeps up a running commentary about how ridiculous it is that I don't trust him. I do not reply until I have entirely submerged my almost naked body in the water.

"OK, you can turn back." He turns but is careful to keep his eyes trained on my face. I have to give him props for that. We swim and mess around and chat in the warm water for almost an hour before I remember my promise to Peeta about not being too long. I frown and swim to the edge of the pond, pulling myself out. Gale makes a huge show of covering his eyes and acting shocked when I don't ask him to turn away.

"The horror!" he shouts. "I cannot believe I just saw Katniss' underwear! I think I might be permanently scarred." I do not respond but merely throw his clothes in the water next to him, my expression blank.

"Oh, nice," he says, watching them float alongside him, growing heavier and heavier as the water seeps into the material. I grin at him and pull my vest over my head, followed quickly by my trousers and boots.

"Denim takes a long time to dry, Gale," I point out happily. He mumbles something unintelligible as he clambers out of the pond and attempts to beat the water out of his clothes against a large boulder. I sit on another rock, retie my braid and watch this process with amusement.

"I'm glad you find this so funny." He puts on a hurt face as he tries to wring out his t-shirt. In the heat, it doesn't take long for his clothes to dry but we have been away a long time so we move off quickly to find something to take home.

Soon, we're deep under the cover of the trees and it feels nice to know that my old hunting partner is covering my back. We move silently through the woods, our ears and eyes working overtime. This is bear territory and we are definitely trespassing. Bears do not take too kindly to armed visitors. Just when I notice movement in the trees, a twig snaps beneath Gale's foot, I lose my focus for one moment and the animal is gone. I glare over my shoulder at him, only to see him attempting an innocent look and throwing the broken stick behind a tree.

"Gale," I hiss, trying not to laugh at his weak effort of hiding the evidence. He shrugs at me and shifts the position of his bow over his arm.

"It's been a while since I've been hunting!" he whispers, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, no, it's fine; I didn't want that one anyway. It's the only game I've seen today but it's all right, we'll find more," I whisper sarcastically. He beckons me over to him and taps his foot until I oblige. I check over my shoulder and behind Gale, but this area seems to be clear of predators for the moment. I move silently to his shoulder and wait expectantly to hear what he has to say. He whacks me softly on the side of the head.

"You're not funny," he says and moves away from me.

I growl at him, but I can do no more for fear of scaring off any other animals in the area. I hurry to catch up with him, careful to keep my tread light and avoiding all twigs and leaves on the ground. One noise from me will be more than enough to give Gale licence to taunt me for the entire day.

This time, when I see movement, I don't hesitate and take down an angry young pig, attempting to charge at us.

"No more than about three or four months old. Shame that it's a bit under-fed." Gale says, checking the eyes, teeth and for any infections before hoisting the carcass onto his shoulders and moving back in the direction of the fence that surrounds the District. This fence is not the same one that was used to keep the inhabitants of District Twelve penned in, but a brand new one designed specifically to keep flesh-eating predators out.

We walk along, chatting amicably while I watch, keeping my eyes peeled for any dangers and he carries the kill. When we finally return to the fence, rather than slipping under it the way we used to, we go to a gate where a law enforcement officer sits, reading a newspaper with his back to us.

"Hey," Gale says, through the chain-link fence, "can you open the gate up?" The officer looks over his shoulder at us and smiles at the sight of the dead pig.

"That going to Sae?" he asks, nodding his head at the dead animal while slipping an access card into the scanner at his side.

"No, I'm going to get some bacon myself then I'll probably give the rest to the Hawthornes. No doubt Greasy Sae will manage to get some from us though," I tell him, remembering the odd concoctions Greasy Sae was famous for that so often kept me alive during the Capitol's reign.

We pass through the gate and the guard pushes it closed after us. I thank him and help Gale back to the house with the animal.

In the past, we'd have sold the entire pig and just kept the money. However, nowadays, money is the last thing I need. I have all the money I'll ever need and more on top of that. Since winning the Hunger Games and the spoils that came with it, neither I nor my family and friends have gone without and due to my Mockingjay status, money will never be an object. The sun is setting as we reach the town square.

"How are Robin and Ana?" Gale asks as we make our way through the quieting plaza.

"Fine. Robin's jealous of Gloriana, though. He wants to go to the park and play on the swings too but he's not allowed on his own," I tell him, a smile spreading across my face at the memory. Gale looks at me seriously.

"You know, given the right training they could both be fighters—Gloriana especially," he says, staring at me until I look at him. I sigh. I can tell he's been waiting to bring this subject up. Gale has always said that Gloriana and Robin should one day be taught how to defend themselves but I have always refused. I don't want my children anywhere near violence.

"No. She won't be. Neither of them will be. I won't allow it. They will never experience anything like what we had to." Gale stops walking and takes my arm, forcing me to a stop.

"She'll figure it out. You found your talent, she'll find hers."

"My father found mine for me, I just developed it," I tell him. I do not want my children near any kind of fighting. Gale shakes his head.

"You can't keep natural talent hidden. When I was last here she told me she'd get a stick through the bough of that little tree at the end of your garden. I told her I didn't believe it and she launched it from the front door and it hit the knot in the middle, dead in the centre. Tell me she won't do it on her own, Katniss," he says, his eyes blazing into mine. I find myself lost for words. I couldn't say I hadn't noticed Gloriana and Robin's unfailing hand-eye co-ordination and their exact aim but I usually refuse to acknowledge it.

"The other day," I whisper, "Robin told me he killed a rabbit with a stone." I look fearfully into his eyes, expecting to see my worry and concern reflected in his but all I see is silent laughter and a smugness that irritates me. "What? Is that what you want for them? I'm warning you Gale, keep any thoughts you might have about showing my children how to fight inside your own head," I say angrily.

"Well, no child can have two Hunger Games victors as parents and not be able to fight." I sniff angrily and begin walking again. Gale quickly catches up to me though—his legs are much longer than mine. "I'm sorry, Katniss. If no one else will tell you the truth, I will." I look at him sideways. I can never stay angry at him. I shake my head and push all thoughts of my children's inner violence out of my head.

As we near the house, I can smell cooking coming from the kitchen and plenty of talking and laughing. I cock an eyebrow and instruct Gale to put the pig in a little shed by the side of the house we use to clean and gut the animals. He drops the pig inside the door and follows me up the stairs. I hang my bow and quiver at the door and signal for Gale to do the same. I push open the kitchen door to see Peeta smiling at me surrounded by my prep team: Octavia, Venia and Flavius, Haymitch and Effie Trinket, our Hunger Games chaperone. My prep team all jump up at the sight of me, and immediately begin gushing about how long it's been since we last seen each other and how different I look. I smile a lot and hug them but I'm really watching Gale slide around the table, shake hands with Peeta and exchange very strained pleasantries—in recent years Gale and Peeta are behaving more and more coldly towards each other and it's really beginning to bug me.

It's nice to see my prep team, with their crazy styles that are all the rage in the Capitol and eccentric personalities that you can't help but love. I comment on Flavius' curls and how they look extra bouncy and Octavia's new, slightly darker green skin colour.

"I had it dyed for the occasion!" she tells me excitedly. Venia's facial tattoos have been extended down her neck now and I tell her how pretty I think they are, even though I believe they're absurd and just a little over-dramatic. I would never tell her that though; I could never hurt her feelings that way.

Finally, I get around to speaking to Effie, who seems bewildered by their hysteria and excitement. She smiles warmly at me, flashing her bright white teeth and pats her new blue wig, just to check it's still in place.

"How are you, Katniss?" she asks gesturing for me to sit next to her at the table. I sit and as soon as I do, Flavius, Venia and Octavia immediately follow suit and begin their conversation where they left off.

"I'm great, thanks." I reply. I glance up at Peeta who is putting out plates and heaping food into bowls which he then places at the centre of the table. I stand to help him and laugh as Gale is drawn into conversation with a very drunken Haymitch, who wants to know if he knows of any secret locations we keep alcohol.

"Where are Gloriana and Robin? They'll want to see Gale," I ask Peeta. He nods towards the front room and leans over to kiss me softly.

"Hi," he says against my lips, "nice to have you back."

"Nice to be back," I reply and squeeze his hand before excusing myself and Gale from the room.

"So, are you hiding any white liquor around here?" he asks, "Haymitch told me that I was employed as his spy and he'd shoot me if I committed treason and told anyone…"

I laugh. "If he's already that drunk, I don't think more alcohol will do him any good," I tell him and push the door to the sitting room open where Gloriana lounges on a couch playing with her hair and Robin lies on the floor moving a toy hovercraft through the air on a remote control. The television blares in the background showing a singing contest created by a friend, Plutarch Heavensbee, who was once an undercover Gamemaker for The Hunger Games but actually worked for District Thirteen and played a key role in the undoing of the corrupt President Snow's Capitol.

"Look who I found," I say and throw the door open to reveal Gale smiling, with his arms behind his back.

"Gale!" Gloriana and Robin shout at the same time and jump up from their respective areas. They both hug him and he takes his arms from behind his back and holds out two small presents for them. I feel a little worried as they take them, huge smiles adorning their perfect faces. Not ten minutes ago, Gale was trying to convince me to teach my children to fight. I hope these presents are nothing to do with that.

When Gloriana opens hers, it is a simple golden necklace with a tiny replica of my mockingjay pin on it. I roll my eyes at him; no doubt this is a subtle hint at the rebellion this symbol stood for. Ana studied the Hunger Games and the rebellion at school and she knows mine and Peeta's roles—Robin, however, knows nothing of it, and I am just not ready to rob him of his innocence quite yet. Robin's present is a pen knife, which I immediately disapprove of but I don't take it away for fear of hurting either of their feelings.

"Come on, guys, dinners ready," I say leading Robin by the hand through to the kitchen where we eat all our informal meals.

Once everyone is seated and enjoying Peeta's excellent cooking, the conversation flows and everyone is having a good time. I hold Peeta's hand under the table and as I look around at my family and friends I cannot believe how perfectly life has turned out for me. Robin flicks the pen knife open and closed repeatedly near Gloriana's arm and she continually takes it from him, snaps it closed and lays it down next to his plate. He doesn't take the hint but frequently opens it and waves it around. Eventually Peeta leans across the table and snatches it from him, winking at Gloriana.

When I was young I thought I was destined to hunt with Gale every day, have a boring job that would barely pay enough to scrape by on and live in the same house in the Seam I'd always lived in. How different it turned out to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**I already had this one partly done so that's why I was so quick to put it up. Thank you to the guest that gave me the lovely review! I know it's a bit dull to introduce, but I'm hoping to make this quite long - hopefully novel length - so it does need quite a bit of introduction. And I'm still figuring out how to work this, so bear with me! I own nothing here, except my own plot interpretation - everything else goes to the wonderful Suzanne Collins. If you want to leave me a review, that would be totally cool. Like, I would not mind that at all. At all.**

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Chapter 2

I curl up on the corner seat of our big couch and Peeta leans against the side of the sofa, by my head. My prep team, Effie and Haymitch continue their conversations on the other seats in our front room, glasses of wine in hand, while Gale can be heard upstairs play fighting with Gloriana. Robin is already in bed.

The topic of discussion slowly moves towards tomorrow's events.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. The day is spent in appreciation of all we lost during the Capitol's reign and it mostly centres around the Hunger Games and the dead tributes. This year, it's District Twelve. I don't think I want Gloriana and Robin to see tomorrow's Remembrance Day broadcast, which is the only programme that is mandatory these days. Not that I mind watching it, but it makes me sad to think about all the people I loved that are gone. I play with a strand of Peeta's hair, and begin listening to the conversation properly.

'It's just diabolical. Where is law enforcement when you need them?' Effie is saying, waving a hand in an exaggerated flourish.

'I agree that they should be doing more. Even these days when everyone is so touchy about security, these things are still slipping past our guard.' Flavius says, shaking his head in disapproval. Peeta murmurs his assent.

Gale enters the room at this point, laughter dancing in his eyes. Everyone glances up when he comes in, and I can see him reading the looks on everyone's faces.

'What's going on?' he asks.

'We were just discussing those murders in District Two,' Haymitch informs him. Have I been tuned out for that long? I've missed the entire conversation.

'It's just too bad law enforcement wasn't on the scene quick enough. A week before Remembrance Day, as well. What does that say about our country?' Effie says, the disgust showing on her face. Gale sighs and sits down on the other end of my couch.

'Yeah, I knew the family,' he says heavily. I look at him in surprise. He never mentioned this.

'Who were they?' Peeta asks, twisting round to look at him.

'Kanika and Sterling Holland. The kid was thirteen years old. I never knew her name though. What kind of person does that? Sterling works with the same company as me. He always acted a bit odd around me but I think he was just shy,' he explains, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit when he's upset about something. Everyone makes sympathetic noises and comments but gradually the conversation returns to happier topics after a while. Everyone exclaims over how pretty Gloriana is or how handsome Robin is and we discuss Gloriana's upcoming birthday party.

'We will be choosing the party outfits of course,' Octavia says, waving her hands in a decisive manner. Peeta and I laugh but we know it is inevitable that we will have no control over our child's wardrobe on the day.

'No flames,' Peeta warns them, and I smile sadly. On our first debut for the Hunger Games, Peeta and I were dressed in capes and headdresses of fire designed by Cinna, my stylist who was killed during the rebellion.

'Of course not, she's going to be thirteen! It was different for you two,' Venia sniffs as though the very idea offends her personally. I pick a biscuit from a tray on the ornate coffee table. I chew the corners and relax as the atmosphere in the room becomes drowsy and peaceful.

Effie warns Peeta and I about the inevitable interviews and attention we will be bestowed with tomorrow. Especially since we are the victors of the last ever full Hunger Games. She's even brought along a list of question and answers she wants us to review.

After a while Haymitch begins to snore loudly, signalling the end to the evening. I yawn and Gale begins to stand, extending his hand towards me. I reach for it, but suddenly Peeta has his arms around my waist and is pulling me up. I'm too tired to notice anything strange and nobody else seems to be paying attention to us, so Gale clears his throat quietly and bids us goodnight, leaving for one of the many guest rooms. Flavius, Venia, Octavia and Effie are staying in the little hotel in the square.

They say their goodbyes and we leave Haymitch to snore on the couch. Peeta takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs, locking the doors on our way past. I lean into him; the several glasses of wine really are taking their effect now. It has been a long day.

'Watch your step,' Peeta murmurs, leading me up the stairs. I can hear soft snores emanating from Gloriana and Robin's rooms and once again, I feel reassured that absolutely everything about our lives will always this perfect. How could anything bad ever happen in our little bubble? The little bubble where we are safe and sound. Where there is no threat to our children's lives. A smile curves my lips in response to this thought.

Peeta helps me out of my clothes but I'm too tired to change into pyjamas. I flop onto the big bed in my underwear. Peeta climbs in next to me and pulls me close, carefully tucking the duvet up under my chin. I quickly fall asleep.

But it's not long before I wake with a start, covered in a cold sweat, my breathing ragged.

My old nightmares are back. Similar, yet slightly different. I dream that Peeta, Gloriana, Robin and Gale are all on one side of a sheet of glass and I'm on the other, unable to get to them. And suddenly, I can hear all of their screams, as though they are being tortured and even though I can see them in front of me and I can see they aren't harmed I begin screaming too. Just as I do, a cloud of birds, as black as the night, descend on me, pecking at my exposed skin with their beaks and scratching me with their claws.

And that's always when I wake. For a long time I try to get back to sleep but the room is too stuffy and I'm uncomfortably sticky with perspiration. Finally, I give in and swing my legs out of the bed. I look back at Peeta, safe and unharmed. Crossing to the big bay windows, I toss one wide open to tempt in the night air. I breathe deeply and then slip into the bathroom, where I lean over the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. There is no colour in my cheeks and my hair sticks up at the back—evidence of my restless sleep. I run the water from the tap for a minute and try to wipe away the sweat on my forehead but it feels so good I decide just to take a cool shower. I slide my underwear off and step into the enormous shower room. The digital clock on the wall tells me that it is quarter past two in the morning.

When I'm satisfied that all the nightmares have been washed away, I switch off the shower and move to the mirror again. The closet in the bedroom yields me a t-shirt and shorts that I can wear to back bed. I pull them on swiftly and braid my wet hair down my back but my mind seems to be buzzing with some unexplained energy. Maybe some tea would calm me.

The thick carpet in the hallway deadens my footsteps and allows me to move silently through the house. First, I visit Gloriana. I brush her hair off her forehead and pull her duvet a little higher. Then I go into Robin's room—who is completely buried under his many stuffed animals and blankets. He is cocooned like a caterpillar and shifting them to find his little face is a harder task than I imagined. His eyelids flicker, a tiny dent appearing at the side of his mouth as he dreams. His are obviously much more peaceful than mine.

Once I am sure they are comfortable I pad downstairs in a reverie. I go to open the front door for some more air but a sudden noise from the kitchen snaps me out of my trance. I push myself against the wall soundlessly and use the long shadows to keep myself hidden. Creeping along the hallway, every silhouette and object looks like a threat in the gloom. The bang comes again and I tense the muscles in my legs, preparing myself to run. My mind races as I remember my knife, in its sheath on my bedside table and I curse myself. What on earth am I going to do if it's a burglar? Another thud and I'm at the door, my body rigid with distress.

I take a deep breath and throw the door open, rolling as I would had I had my bow and arrow, and grab a knife from the worktop to hold it out in front of me, ready to strike.

'Don't do that, sweetheart, you scared the hell outta me,' Haymitch grumbles, clutching his chest. I lower my knife, my heartbeat slowing to normal.

'I scared _you_? Haymitch, I almost stabbed you. I forgot you were here.' He frowns and his eyes trace my face.

'Nightmares again?' he asks, turning away and replacing the cans he'd lifted down from a cupboard. I don't answer him. He shakes his head and turns towards me, pursing his lips. 'You look like hell. When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?'

'Last night,' I tell him, wounded. He raises his eyebrows but doesn't press the matter.

'So, you seriously don't have any alcohol in this house at all?'

'No, I thought you were kidding when you asked Gale if he knew any secret hiding places,' I reply, replacing the knife on the counter.

'I asked him that?' he said, puzzlement crossing his features, as he attempts to sift through the drunken haze of his night. I just grab a glass from the draining board and fill it with water from the tap.

'Remembrance Day, tomorrow,' I murmur, staring down into the glass. Haymitch mumbles something and returns the last few tins to their respective shelves. 'You don't think they'll ask about—' I swallow convulsively and force myself on, '—about Rue, do you?'

'Today,' he corrects me. 'Yes, I was worried about that. Among other things.' I'm pretty sure I know what these 'other things' are. The fact that Peeta and I are most certainly going to be mentioned in tomorrow's show, they'll almost certainly ask about the rebellion and moments I don't want to relive.

'Robin was going to find out sooner or later,' I whisper, thinking of Gale, and his propensity for telling Robin things he should not know.

'Maybe you should tell him, before he finds out from the Capitol,' Haymitch says uncomfortably.

'I will.' I put my water glass in the sink and bid goodnight to Haymitch. I'm sort of glad I had the chance to speak to him. He's reassured what I'd been developing in my head for a while now. Gloriana knows enough to get by, I think. She's old enough now: but Robin isn't ready to hear it. Not in my opinion. Gale might think he's ready, but Gale has never been the most cautious.

I tramp back up the stairs and into my bedroom where Peeta lies, still in the same position I left him in. I climb into my bed and curl into the curve of his body. I pull his arm around me and I feel him raise his head from the pillow slightly. I wait for him to say something but he just puts his arms around me and holds me closer.

For a while I lie in the darkness, running my thumb across Peeta's palm. I roll over until I am face to face with him. He looks so calm and perfect when he's asleep, though I know there is some serious damage inside him, just like there is in me. I stroke his cheek and press my face into his neck. I wait for sleep to take me, but it does not come.

All I can picture is the terror in Rue's eyes when she realised I couldn't save her. My mind replays the images of her final moments over and over. I whisper the song I sung to her as she died and I feel tears begin to spill from eyes and run onto the pillow, leaving damp stains.

'Hey,' I hear Peeta's voice, slightly muffled as I have my head completely buried against his chest, under the duvet now, 'what's up?' His hands reach down and tilt my head up towards him. I see his face crease with worry and horror at my distress. 'What's going on Katniss?' he demands. I try to answer him but my words choke off in my throat and tears stream from my eyes in a fast-flowing river.

His thumbs delicately wipe them away and he puts his arms around me, pulling me into a sitting position. He rocks me gently back and forth, letting me cry all my tears away. When I've finally run out, he leans back and looks into my eyes which are ringed red and bloodshot, I know. I open my mouth to tell him about Prim, when I realise that it's not just Prim I've been crying over, it's Rue. Little Rue with her mockingjay call and her sweet, trusting nature. The two were so alike that it's not surprising I am thinking of both of them now, even when I did not intend to do so.

'Prim or Rue this time?' he asks knowingly.

'Both,' I whisper. He holds my face between his hands and looks down at me, demanding I look at him.

'Katniss, I know it's hard, but you have to let go. They're gone now and you're just cutting yourself up over it,' he pleads. I stare at him, shocked.

'How can you say that?' I gasp, shrinking back from him.

'I can say that because it's been years. They're not coming back Katniss.' He rushes on before I can protest, 'And I know you loved them both very much and they loved you too, I'm sure of it. But life goes on. All the things we've been through will only make us stronger in the end, even now, when she's gone she's still helping you.' I look down at my hands. Peeta presses his lips to my head and strokes my hair.

'I'm sorry,' I whisper. Peeta knows that I'm not talking to him, but to Rue and to Prim, who, if I'd planned better—if I'd _been_ better—both would have lived. I look into Peeta's face. His eyes are a bit too bright but they tell me it will be all right. I stretch up and kiss him hard, wordlessly thanking him for everything he does for me. Pulling me back down, we settle back onto the mattress.

I keep my ear close against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The steady sound reassures me and I fall back into my uneasy sleep soon enough.

The next time I awake, it's to the sound of my bedroom door being flung open and I look up to see the formidable silhouette of Effie standing in the doorway, wringing her hands, hair worryingly tall and bouncy. I blink in the daylight filters in through the curtains, attacking my eyes.

'You two better get up. There are camera crews headed here right now,' she says seriously. I sit up straight immediately, Peeta however seems not to have woken and just rolls over, mumbling something incoherent. I jump out of bed, dragging a pillow with me. For a moment I'm confused but before I can do anything too decisive, my prep team are here, ushering me into the bathroom. I launch the pillow in Peeta's direction.

'Wake up, Peeta! Get Gale up, too!'

'What?' he asks, wearily rubbing his eyes. I'm shoved through the bathroom door and over to the sink. He pokes his head in, to see Octavia and Venia attacking me with wax strips and tweezers. Flavius fusses over the closet in the bedroom, clearly at a loss for what to put us in.

'Cameras. They're coming here,' I say agitatedly.

'So? What's the fuss?' he says running his hands through his mussed hair. I almost laugh at the sight of him.

'They'll want interviews,' Effie says, peering out the bedroom window, her nerves infectious. Peeta slaps his forehead.

'Remembrance Day.' I nod at him.

'We did not account for this,' Flavius says, hurrying over with a red silk dress and black spiky heels. I frown at him.

'Are those necessary? I'm not trying to make an impression anymore.' I complain.

'You're right!' he gasps, drops them on the floor and hurries back to the wardrobe. He dashes back just as Octavia pulls out my braid and brushes through my hair. He holds out smart, black cigarette-pants which cling closely to my skin and a carefully, delicately tailored black suit jacket to top off a white silk blouse. Venia hurries from the room to get Peeta ready.

'The heels are still necessary though; you want to look your best,' he nods at me. I sigh but let him tug the tight clothes onto me. Just as I'm dragging on the last stiletto and my make-up is almost complete, Peeta hops into the room pulling on black trousers, his matching shirt hanging open.

'This is mental,' he mutters, earning himself a reproving glance from Venia. I have to agree. When I am finally allowed to look in the mirror, I see that my hair has been put into the style my mother did for the first reaping but my face is pale with my eyes ringed in dark make-up. I look striking. It is clear that despite what he says, Flavius is still looking for me to make an impression. Venia attempts to put make-up on Peeta but he slaps her hand away.

'You are joking,' he says in a warning tone and finishes buttoning his shirt. Octavia darts in and unbuttons the top two buttons

'Perfect, just that little touch of rebellion,' she says, surveying us standing next to each other.

'Ah, the star-crossed lovers from district twelve are back,' says Haymitch, entering the room and sliding sunglasses onto his eyes—his hangover is obviously defeating him. 'You're not on fire,' he observes, bemused. 'Odd.' I don't laugh.

'Right, so are we having a party in here or what?' Peeta asks, gesturing at all the people in our over-crowded bathroom. As if pushed by his words, the group slips into the bedroom just as Gale ducks in and double takes at the sight of me—no doubt everyone sees my blush.

'What's going on?' he asks, bewildered. Flavius sighs and explains the situation.

'So, they'll be looking for interviews from the ones who survived: the Mockingjay and her partner. Oh, you don't think they'll want one with you too?' he asks, worriedly appraising Gale's pyjamas. 'You were involved heavily in the rebellion.' Gale holds his hands up and backs away a few steps.

'I doubt it; they don't know me.' Just as he says this, the doorbell goes and Gloriana pads into the room, too, making it a party of nine. Suddenly, everything begins happening at once. Flavius, Octavia and Venia advance on Gale, dangerous expressions on their faces, and drag him into the bathroom, while Haymitch and Effie begin talking at the same time. Gloriana tugs Peeta's sleeve and asks what's going on. I just look at them all and excuse myself from the room. The confusion is too much for me, so I go to answer the door.

When I reach it, I look out the peep-hole to see several camera and sound crews from different television networks—or insects as I prefer to call them. I take a deep breath and just as I am about to open the door, Peeta appears at my side and takes my hand. I smile at him and open the door to instant camera flashes and multiple questions. I blink a few times but Peeta, always the speaker, steps forward and holds his hands out, gesturing for quiet.

I move up and stand next to him.

'Peeta!' several reporters shout and many microphones are held out to him.

One reporter manages to shout above the rest: 'Peeta and Katniss! What are your thoughts on today's Remembrance Day ceremony?' Peeta clears his throat and glances at me. I nod almost imperceptibly.

'Today is a sad day,' he says, and the watching crowd grow quiet. The gravity in his voice keeps the listeners riveted from the first word. Those from the District have gathered to hear and the people in our house wait nervously behind us. 'It is a sad day for a number of reasons. We mourn the loss of our friends, our relatives,' he squeezes my hand, 'and the strangers we never knew. Katniss and I both lost people we love in the rebellion but had it not been for their brave sacrifice, the world would not be the same today. We'd still be playing the Games. Children's lives would be lost every year for a senseless reason, and there would always be that cycle of destruction. But today we don't think about ourselves, today we think about those who gave their lives for the cause. Those who gave their lives, unwillingly or otherwise for the Hunger Games.' He looked at me and I realised it was time for my piece. After a long pause I begin my speech, keeping my eyes trained just above the gathered crowd. It keeps my heart rate slightly lower.

'I know, maybe more than most, what it feels like to lose the ones you love. I never wanted to fight a war and lose my sister, my friends, my home. But we're better for it. Panem is better for it. Stronger. I think that's what we need to focus on today. Remember what those who died did for us. For Panem.' Though my speech isn't as long or intricate as Peeta's I think it has the desired effect—I've never been as good with words as he is. There is a weighted silence from the watching crowd and cameramen. We make to return inside but are bombarded with questions as to if we'll give interviews or speeches later in the day. Effie barges past to sort these things out: it's what she's best at. We close the door quietly and I lean against it, my breathing shallow. I wonder for a moment when I'll ever stop having to relive the Hunger Games. Robin trips down the stairs, stuffed bear in his hand.

'You look pretty, Momma,' he says with eight year old simplicity. I laugh a weak, relieved laugh and it breaks the ice in the room. Gale smiles at me and scoops Gloriana up in his arms and carries her into the kitchen.

'Food!' we hear him announce. I realise I'm starving. I hear a few sniffs and look up to see Octavia and Venia wiping their eyes and patting each other's shoulders.

'That was beautiful,' Venia tells us and they excuse themselves to the bathroom.

Peeta helps me up from the door and we go into the kitchen where Gale is frying eggs and Gloriana waits expectantly. No one but Robin follows us in; they know we have to iron this out. Peeta goes to a cupboard on the wall and slides it to the left, revealing a silver safe. He types in a code and brings out a big black box. Carrying it to the table, he sets it down and Robin's curious, intelligent eyes watch him carefully.

'Why are those people here?' Robin asks us, his eyes trained on my face. I tap the lid of the box.

'This is why,' I say and lift the lid away to reveal the book Peeta and I made, which contained everything that happened before and during the rebellion which we thought worth noting. Gloriana sits down at the table, her face covered in a look of childish superiority—she thinks she has the upper hand; she already knows what we are going to say. And that hurts my heart.

It contains the tapes of our Hunger Games, recordings of any interviews and the propos from the rebellion.

Gale makes to leave the room but I know I can't relive this without him. I pull him into the seat next to me by the elbow and Peeta sits on my other side. The confusion on Robin's face intensifies when I pull a stack of photographs from the box.

I take a deep breath and we begin our story.

Chapter 2

I curl up on the corner seat of our big couch and Peeta leans against the side of the sofa, by my head. My prep team, Effie and Haymitch continue their conversations on the other seats in our front room, glasses of wine in hand, while Gale can be heard upstairs play fighting with Gloriana. Robin is already in bed.

The topic of discussion slowly moves towards tomorrow's events.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. The day is spent in appreciation of all we lost during the Capitol's reign and it mostly centres around the Hunger Games and the dead tributes. This year, it's District Twelve. I don't think I want Gloriana and Robin to see tomorrow's Remembrance Day broadcast, which is the only programme that is mandatory these days. Not that I mind watching it, but it makes me sad to think about all the people I loved that are gone. I play with a strand of Peeta's hair, and begin listening to the conversation properly.

'It's just diabolical. Where is law enforcement when you need them?' Effie is saying, waving a hand in an exaggerated flourish.

'I agree that they should be doing more. Even these days when everyone is so touchy about security, these things are still slipping past our guard.' Flavius says, shaking his head in disapproval. Peeta murmurs his assent.

Gale enters the room at this point, laughter dancing in his eyes. Everyone glances up when he comes in, and I can see him reading the looks on everyone's faces.

'What's going on?' he asks.

'We were just discussing those murders in District Two,' Haymitch informs him. Have I been tuned out for that long? I've missed the entire conversation.

'It's just too bad law enforcement wasn't on the scene quick enough. A week before Remembrance Day, as well. What does that say about our country?' Effie says, the disgust showing on her face. Gale sighs and sits down on the other end of my couch.

'Yeah, I knew the family,' he says heavily. I look at him in surprise. He never mentioned this.

'Who were they?' Peeta asks, twisting round to look at him.

'Kanika and Sterling Holland. The kid was thirteen years old. I never knew her name though. What kind of person does that? Sterling works with the same company as me. He always acted a bit odd around me but I think he was just shy,' he explains, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit when he's upset about something. Everyone makes sympathetic noises and comments but gradually the conversation returns to happier topics after a while. Everyone exclaims over how pretty Gloriana is or how handsome Robin is and we discuss Gloriana's upcoming birthday party.

'We will be choosing the party outfits of course,' Octavia says, waving her hands in a decisive manner. Peeta and I laugh but we know it is inevitable that we will have no control over our child's wardrobe on the day.

'No flames,' Peeta warns them, and I smile sadly. On our first debut for the Hunger Games, Peeta and I were dressed in capes and headdresses of fire designed by Cinna, my stylist who was killed during the rebellion.

'Of course not, she's going to be thirteen! It was different for you two,' Venia sniffs as though the very idea offends her personally. I pick a biscuit from a tray on the ornate coffee table. I chew the corners and relax as the atmosphere in the room becomes drowsy and peaceful.

Effie warns Peeta and I about the inevitable interviews and attention we will be bestowed with tomorrow. Especially since we are the victors of the last ever full Hunger Games. She's even brought along a list of question and answers she wants us to review.

After a while Haymitch begins to snore loudly, signalling the end to the evening. I yawn and Gale begins to stand, extending his hand towards me. I reach for it, but suddenly Peeta has his arms around my waist and is pulling me up. I'm too tired to notice anything strange and nobody else seems to be paying attention to us, so Gale clears his throat quietly and bids us goodnight, leaving for one of the many guest rooms. Flavius, Venia, Octavia and Effie are staying in the little hotel in the square.

They say their goodbyes and we leave Haymitch to snore on the couch. Peeta takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs, locking the doors on our way past. I lean into him; the several glasses of wine really are taking their effect now. It has been a long day.

'Watch your step,' Peeta murmurs, leading me up the stairs. I can hear soft snores emanating from Gloriana and Robin's rooms and once again, I feel reassured that absolutely everything about our lives will always this perfect. How could anything bad ever happen in our little bubble? The little bubble where we are safe and sound. Where there is no threat to our children's lives. A smile curves my lips in response to this thought.

Peeta helps me out of my clothes but I'm too tired to change into pyjamas. I flop onto the big bed in my underwear. Peeta climbs in next to me and pulls me close, carefully tucking the duvet up under my chin. I quickly fall asleep.

But it's not long before I wake with a start, covered in a cold sweat, my breathing ragged.

My old nightmares are back. Similar, yet slightly different. I dream that Peeta, Gloriana, Robin and Gale are all on one side of a sheet of glass and I'm on the other, unable to get to them. And suddenly, I can hear all of their screams, as though they are being tortured and even though I can see them in front of me and I can see they aren't harmed I begin screaming too. Just as I do, a cloud of birds, as black as the night, descend on me, pecking at my exposed skin with their beaks and scratching me with their claws.

And that's always when I wake. For a long time I try to get back to sleep but the room is too stuffy and I'm uncomfortably sticky with perspiration. Finally, I give in and swing my legs out of the bed. I look back at Peeta, safe and unharmed. Crossing to the big bay windows, I toss one wide open to tempt in the night air. I breathe deeply and then slip into the bathroom, where I lean over the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. There is no colour in my cheeks and my hair sticks up at the back—evidence of my restless sleep. I run the water from the tap for a minute and try to wipe away the sweat on my forehead but it feels so good I decide just to take a cool shower. I slide my underwear off and step into the enormous shower room. The digital clock on the wall tells me that it is quarter past two in the morning.

When I'm satisfied that all the nightmares have been washed away, I switch off the shower and move to the mirror again. The closet in the bedroom yields me a t-shirt and shorts that I can wear to back bed. I pull them on swiftly and braid my wet hair down my back but my mind seems to be buzzing with some unexplained energy. Maybe some tea would calm me.

The thick carpet in the hallway deadens my footsteps and allows me to move silently through the house. First, I visit Gloriana. I brush her hair off her forehead and pull her duvet a little higher. Then I go into Robin's room—who is completely buried under his many stuffed animals and blankets. He is cocooned like a caterpillar and shifting them to find his little face is a harder task than I imagined. His eyelids flicker, a tiny dent appearing at the side of his mouth as he dreams. His are obviously much more peaceful than mine.

Once I am sure they are comfortable I pad downstairs in a reverie. I go to open the front door for some more air but a sudden noise from the kitchen snaps me out of my trance. I push myself against the wall soundlessly and use the long shadows to keep myself hidden. Creeping along the hallway, every silhouette and object looks like a threat in the gloom. The bang comes again and I tense the muscles in my legs, preparing myself to run. My mind races as I remember my knife, in its sheath on my bedside table and I curse myself. What on earth am I going to do if it's a burglar? Another thud and I'm at the door, my body rigid with distress.

I take a deep breath and throw the door open, rolling as I would had I had my bow and arrow, and grab a knife from the worktop to hold it out in front of me, ready to strike.

'Don't do that, sweetheart, you scared the hell outta me,' Haymitch grumbles, clutching his chest. I lower my knife, my heartbeat slowing to normal.

'I scared _you_? Haymitch, I almost stabbed you. I forgot you were here.' He frowns and his eyes trace my face.

'Nightmares again?' he asks, turning away and replacing the cans he'd lifted down from a cupboard. I don't answer him. He shakes his head and turns towards me, pursing his lips. 'You look like hell. When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?'

'Last night,' I tell him, wounded. He raises his eyebrows but doesn't press the matter.

'So, you seriously don't have any alcohol in this house at all?'

'No, I thought you were kidding when you asked Gale if he knew any secret hiding places,' I reply, replacing the knife on the counter.

'I asked him that?' he said, puzzlement crossing his features, as he attempts to sift through the drunken haze of his night. I just grab a glass from the draining board and fill it with water from the tap.

'Remembrance Day, tomorrow,' I murmur, staring down into the glass. Haymitch mumbles something and returns the last few tins to their respective shelves. 'You don't think they'll ask about—' I swallow convulsively and force myself on, '—about Rue, do you?'

'Today,' he corrects me. 'Yes, I was worried about that. Among other things.' I'm pretty sure I know what these 'other things' are. The fact that Peeta and I are most certainly going to be mentioned in tomorrow's show, they'll almost certainly ask about the rebellion and moments I don't want to relive.

'Robin was going to find out sooner or later,' I whisper, thinking of Gale, and his propensity for telling Robin things he should not know.

'Maybe you should tell him, before he finds out from the Capitol,' Haymitch says uncomfortably.

'I will.' I put my water glass in the sink and bid goodnight to Haymitch. I'm sort of glad I had the chance to speak to him. He's reassured what I'd been developing in my head for a while now. Gloriana knows enough to get by, I think. She's old enough now: but Robin isn't ready to hear it. Not in my opinion. Gale might think he's ready, but Gale has never been the most cautious.

I tramp back up the stairs and into my bedroom where Peeta lies, still in the same position I left him in. I climb into my bed and curl into the curve of his body. I pull his arm around me and I feel him raise his head from the pillow slightly. I wait for him to say something but he just puts his arms around me and holds me closer.

For a while I lie in the darkness, running my thumb across Peeta's palm. I roll over until I am face to face with him. He looks so calm and perfect when he's asleep, though I know there is some serious damage inside him, just like there is in me. I stroke his cheek and press my face into his neck. I wait for sleep to take me, but it does not come.

All I can picture is the terror in Rue's eyes when she realised I couldn't save her. My mind replays the images of her final moments over and over. I whisper the song I sung to her as she died and I feel tears begin to spill from eyes and run onto the pillow, leaving damp stains.

'Hey,' I hear Peeta's voice, slightly muffled as I have my head completely buried against his chest, under the duvet now, 'what's up?' His hands reach down and tilt my head up towards him. I see his face crease with worry and horror at my distress. 'What's going on Katniss?' he demands. I try to answer him but my words choke off in my throat and tears stream from my eyes in a fast-flowing river.

His thumbs delicately wipe them away and he puts his arms around me, pulling me into a sitting position. He rocks me gently back and forth, letting me cry all my tears away. When I've finally run out, he leans back and looks into my eyes which are ringed red and bloodshot, I know. I open my mouth to tell him about Prim, when I realise that it's not just Prim I've been crying over, it's Rue. Little Rue with her mockingjay call and her sweet, trusting nature. The two were so alike that it's not surprising I am thinking of both of them now, even when I did not intend to do so.

'Prim or Rue this time?' he asks knowingly.

'Both,' I whisper. He holds my face between his hands and looks down at me, demanding I look at him.

'Katniss, I know it's hard, but you have to let go. They're gone now and you're just cutting yourself up over it,' he pleads. I stare at him, shocked.

'How can you say that?' I gasp, shrinking back from him.

'I can say that because it's been years. They're not coming back Katniss.' He rushes on before I can protest, 'And I know you loved them both very much and they loved you too, I'm sure of it. But life goes on. All the things we've been through will only make us stronger in the end, even now, when she's gone she's still helping you.' I look down at my hands. Peeta presses his lips to my head and strokes my hair.

'I'm sorry,' I whisper. Peeta knows that I'm not talking to him, but to Rue and to Prim, who, if I'd planned better—if I'd _been_ better—both would have lived. I look into Peeta's face. His eyes are a bit too bright but they tell me it will be all right. I stretch up and kiss him hard, wordlessly thanking him for everything he does for me. Pulling me back down, we settle back onto the mattress.

I keep my ear close against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The steady sound reassures me and I fall back into my uneasy sleep soon enough.

The next time I awake, it's to the sound of my bedroom door being flung open and I look up to see the formidable silhouette of Effie standing in the doorway, wringing her hands, hair worryingly tall and bouncy. I blink in the daylight filters in through the curtains, attacking my eyes.

'You two better get up. There are camera crews headed here right now,' she says seriously. I sit up straight immediately, Peeta however seems not to have woken and just rolls over, mumbling something incoherent. I jump out of bed, dragging a pillow with me. For a moment I'm confused but before I can do anything too decisive, my prep team are here, ushering me into the bathroom. I launch the pillow in Peeta's direction.

'Wake up, Peeta! Get Gale up, too!'

'What?' he asks, wearily rubbing his eyes. I'm shoved through the bathroom door and over to the sink. He pokes his head in, to see Octavia and Venia attacking me with wax strips and tweezers. Flavius fusses over the closet in the bedroom, clearly at a loss for what to put us in.

'Cameras. They're coming here,' I say agitatedly.

'So? What's the fuss?' he says running his hands through his mussed hair. I almost laugh at the sight of him.

'They'll want interviews,' Effie says, peering out the bedroom window, her nerves infectious. Peeta slaps his forehead.

'Remembrance Day.' I nod at him.

'We did not account for this,' Flavius says, hurrying over with a red silk dress and black spiky heels. I frown at him.

'Are those necessary? I'm not trying to make an impression anymore.' I complain.

'You're right!' he gasps, drops them on the floor and hurries back to the wardrobe. He dashes back just as Octavia pulls out my braid and brushes through my hair. He holds out smart, black cigarette-pants which cling closely to my skin and a carefully, delicately tailored black suit jacket to top off a white silk blouse. Venia hurries from the room to get Peeta ready.

'The heels are still necessary though; you want to look your best,' he nods at me. I sigh but let him tug the tight clothes onto me. Just as I'm dragging on the last stiletto and my make-up is almost complete, Peeta hops into the room pulling on black trousers, his matching shirt hanging open.

'This is mental,' he mutters, earning himself a reproving glance from Venia. I have to agree. When I am finally allowed to look in the mirror, I see that my hair has been put into the style my mother did for the first reaping but my face is pale with my eyes ringed in dark make-up. I look striking. It is clear that despite what he says, Flavius is still looking for me to make an impression. Venia attempts to put make-up on Peeta but he slaps her hand away.

'You are joking,' he says in a warning tone and finishes buttoning his shirt. Octavia darts in and unbuttons the top two buttons

'Perfect, just that little touch of rebellion,' she says, surveying us standing next to each other.

'Ah, the star-crossed lovers from district twelve are back,' says Haymitch, entering the room and sliding sunglasses onto his eyes—his hangover is obviously defeating him. 'You're not on fire,' he observes, bemused. 'Odd.' I don't laugh.

'Right, so are we having a party in here or what?' Peeta asks, gesturing at all the people in our over-crowded bathroom. As if pushed by his words, the group slips into the bedroom just as Gale ducks in and double takes at the sight of me—no doubt everyone sees my blush.

'What's going on?' he asks, bewildered. Flavius sighs and explains the situation.

'So, they'll be looking for interviews from the ones who survived: the Mockingjay and her partner. Oh, you don't think they'll want one with you too?' he asks, worriedly appraising Gale's pyjamas. 'You were involved heavily in the rebellion.' Gale holds his hands up and backs away a few steps.

'I doubt it; they don't know me.' Just as he says this, the doorbell goes and Gloriana pads into the room, too, making it a party of nine. Suddenly, everything begins happening at once. Flavius, Octavia and Venia advance on Gale, dangerous expressions on their faces, and drag him into the bathroom, while Haymitch and Effie begin talking at the same time. Gloriana tugs Peeta's sleeve and asks what's going on. I just look at them all and excuse myself from the room. The confusion is too much for me, so I go to answer the door.

When I reach it, I look out the peep-hole to see several camera and sound crews from different television networks—or insects as I prefer to call them. I take a deep breath and just as I am about to open the door, Peeta appears at my side and takes my hand. I smile at him and open the door to instant camera flashes and multiple questions. I blink a few times but Peeta, always the speaker, steps forward and holds his hands out, gesturing for quiet.

I move up and stand next to him.

'Peeta!' several reporters shout and many microphones are held out to him.

One reporter manages to shout above the rest: 'Peeta and Katniss! What are your thoughts on today's Remembrance Day ceremony?' Peeta clears his throat and glances at me. I nod almost imperceptibly.

'Today is a sad day,' he says, and the watching crowd grow quiet. The gravity in his voice keeps the listeners riveted from the first word. Those from the District have gathered to hear and the people in our house wait nervously behind us. 'It is a sad day for a number of reasons. We mourn the loss of our friends, our relatives,' he squeezes my hand, 'and the strangers we never knew. Katniss and I both lost people we love in the rebellion but had it not been for their brave sacrifice, the world would not be the same today. We'd still be playing the Games. Children's lives would be lost every year for a senseless reason, and there would always be that cycle of destruction. But today we don't think about ourselves, today we think about those who gave their lives for the cause. Those who gave their lives, unwillingly or otherwise for the Hunger Games.' He looked at me and I realised it was time for my piece. After a long pause I begin my speech, keeping my eyes trained just above the gathered crowd. It keeps my heart rate slightly lower.

'I know, maybe more than most, what it feels like to lose the ones you love. I never wanted to fight a war and lose my sister, my friends, my home. But we're better for it. Panem is better for it. Stronger. I think that's what we need to focus on today. Remember what those who died did for us. For Panem.' Though my speech isn't as long or intricate as Peeta's I think it has the desired effect—I've never been as good with words as he is. There is a weighted silence from the watching crowd and cameramen. We make to return inside but are bombarded with questions as to if we'll give interviews or speeches later in the day. Effie barges past to sort these things out: it's what she's best at. We close the door quietly and I lean against it, my breathing shallow. I wonder for a moment when I'll ever stop having to relive the Hunger Games. Robin trips down the stairs, stuffed bear in his hand.

'You look pretty, Momma,' he says with eight year old simplicity. I laugh a weak, relieved laugh and it breaks the ice in the room. Gale smiles at me and scoops Gloriana up in his arms and carries her into the kitchen.

'Food!' we hear him announce. I realise I'm starving. I hear a few sniffs and look up to see Octavia and Venia wiping their eyes and patting each other's shoulders.

'That was beautiful,' Venia tells us and they excuse themselves to the bathroom.

Peeta helps me up from the door and we go into the kitchen where Gale is frying eggs and Gloriana waits expectantly. No one but Robin follows us in; they know we have to iron this out. Peeta goes to a cupboard on the wall and slides it to the left, revealing a silver safe. He types in a code and brings out a big black box. Carrying it to the table, he sets it down and Robin's curious, intelligent eyes watch him carefully.

'Why are those people here?' Robin asks us, his eyes trained on my face. I tap the lid of the box.

'This is why,' I say and lift the lid away to reveal the book Peeta and I made, which contained everything that happened before and during the rebellion which we thought worth noting. Gloriana sits down at the table, her face covered in a look of childish superiority—she thinks she has the upper hand; she already knows what we are going to say. And that hurts my heart.

It contains the tapes of our Hunger Games, recordings of any interviews and the propos from the rebellion.

Gale makes to leave the room but I know I can't relive this without him. I pull him into the seat next to me by the elbow and Peeta sits on my other side. The confusion on Robin's face intensifies when I pull a stack of photographs from the box.

I take a deep breath and we begin our story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alrighty. Chapter 3 is up, also. I really don't know if people are reading this, or just glancing at it and clicking off - it's kind of confusing. Oh well. I've started to bring in a bit more of the important plot here and I'm hoping a bit more of Katniss's true character is showing through. You could always let me know what you think? Much appreciated. Once again, the rights to the characters etc. go to Suzanne Collins.**

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Chapter 3

By the end of our tale, Robin holds my book in his hands and stares at us open mouthed. I struggle for something to say. "Time for food" doesn't seem to cut it. Gale's eggs remain untouched on the side.

Peeta switches the television off which is showing his interviews from the time of his capture, during the rebellion. He looks awful. I had been trying very hard to tune this part out. I could hardly bear to watch it the first time around, when it was originally aired let alone in my spare time.

'I knew there's a reason I can hit a bird with a stone from any distance,' he says, nodding. Gale snorts and I elbow him in the ribs. Peeta sighs and collects the photographs that are spread on the table. Gloriana pulls a final photograph towards her: one of me in my mockingjay suit looking terrifyingly glorious with my bow in one hand and a deadly looking arrow in the other, the wreckage of a burning hospital in the background.

'I don't want you anywhere near weapons,' I tell her.

'I don't really like bows and arrows,' she replies. Relief floods through me. She doesn't like using a bow. It doesn't even occur to me how she would know that.

'Can you show me your archery?' Robin asks. I'm about to tell him no when Effie enters the room, knocking the door as she comes in, missing the whole point of a knock.

'They want to know if you'll do interviews in front of the District Twelve memorial,' she says to Peeta and I but then directs the next part at me, 'and if you'll shoot a flaming arrow into the air for the dead tributes at seven o'clock just as the sun is setting,' she says. It's the least I can do. I nod to her and she leaves quietly.

'I guess you'll get to see,' I tell Robin. He grins and jumps up from the table to get dressed. I lean back into the chair and close my eyes. I've only been awake a few hours and already this day feels like it will last forever. I hear a chair scrape back across the flagstone floor and someone leave the room and I think it might be Peeta; Gale would never have made that much noise.

'Come on, Mockingjay. Just a few more propos to film and then we can go back to our bunks in Thirteen.' Gale announces loudly. I cover my ears and lean away from him.

'I don't like District Thirteen. Why is everything grey?' I moan.

'Because Coin's running it,' says Gale with distaste. My eyes shoot open and I shove my chair back with force and make to leave the room.

'Hey, don't be like that Catnip,' Gale says, catching me around the waist and swinging me up over his shoulders.

'Gale! Put me down!' I cry.

'Don't be angry with me,' he pleads in a pitiful tone. I try to suppress a laugh and squirm until he lets me down. When I'm finally allowed to touch my feet back to the ground, I look up and find myself standing nose to nose with Gale. I blink in surprise at the proximity. We both step back at the same time and I realise that despite our troubled past, we'll be all right. I stand for a minute just looking at him.

We laugh simultaneously and he musses my hair. This is an action Gale has always done to me, something that I'm very used to. I pretend to be annoyed with him and he pats my hair back into place, arranging it around my face until it's back to normal.

Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Haymitch, his face showing incredulity and I know what he must be seeing. Gale's hand by my face and me standing slightly too close to him. I step further back at the same instant Gale does and despite that we were doing nothing wrong, I feel my face redden. And I'm outraged at Haymitch for assuming the worst. I would never hurt Peeta like that. Never. I begin to explain the situation but he just holds up his hand, shakes his head and leaves the room.

I frown at Gale and he shrugs apologetically.

'We'll tell him later. He won't say anything to Peeta until he knows the story,' I assure Gale. I hurry from the room, keeping my eyes peeled for Haymitch but he's nowhere to be seen.

I remember the interview and check the time. It's only one o'clock but I decide to go and retrieve my mockingjay bow anyway. I go upstairs and into my room where I pull back a curtain by the window to reveal a discreet door set into the wall. Pressing my palm against it, it swings open with a metallic hiss. A metal staircase leads up into the darkened attic. As I climb, lights ping on automatically overhead.

The room was originally built as a loft conversion but Peeta and I updated it to house our most precious or important things. It is entirely furnished in deep coloured cushions and thick rugs with many photographs adorning the walls. In a glass case in the corner of the room, my mockingjay suit stands like a sombre guard, forever watching over us. Lying in another glass case is the bow and arrows Beetee, a technical genius from District 3, designed specifically for me.

I go to them immediately as I so often have done in the years since the rebellion. The lighting is dim in this room, all soft spotlights and flickering candles, and here I can focus on my thoughts. I place my fingers on the glass case containing my suit and a green light zips around the edges, telling me the container is now unlocked. There is a slight scent that comes from the suit—I couldn't place exactly what it is—reminding me forcefully of District Thirteen and I can't help but remember all that happened during the days when this suit was a daily requirement. Running my fingers over the arms, I shiver as I remember Peeta when he was brought back from the Capitol and they'd altered his memories so that he would hate me. This had gone so far that Peeta had actually attempted to strangle me. It had taken a long time and much scientific experimentation to get him back.

Even with all of that, Peeta still sometimes gets flashbacks to that time and I see the struggle in his eyes when he knows he loves me but there's a memory in there that says he hates me, too.

Those moments always hurt, even though I know they are not real. They hurt, and they worry me. Gloriana saw it once, and I've never seen her look so frightened. She's normally so brave. Peeta never regretted anything so much as losing control in front of her.

More than anything I think I'm just looking for a distraction from everything that's going on. I close the case and a red light runs around the edge of the glass, assuring me that it is locked to everyone other than Peeta and me. I move to one of the big, plush cushions and curl up like a cat. I stay like that for a long time, so long that my legs begin to cramp and I know people will be looking for me. But it's just so nice to have time to myself, which I almost never get anymore.

Just as this thought crosses my mind, I hear someone calling my name. I don't even raise my head. It's Effie's voice. I listen to her look around the bedroom and bathroom below me and then leave. It's not until I hear Peeta calling my name on the landing that I twitch.

He calls my name again and I start to unlock my limbs. Just as I stand, I remember to grab my bow. Pulling the string a few times, getting myself used to the tension again is an absolute necessity. My hunting bow is so much looser. It's still the same one I used back when we lived in the Seam. This one is a lot firmer, shoots further and with deadlier accuracy. This bow is not meant for animals.

But I still prefer my hunting bow. I roll my quiver over my shoulder and close the case which flashes red once closed. I start to make my way down the staircase, contemplating what I would say in the interview.

When I finally return downstairs, the house is blissfully quiet. Only Robin is in his room and Greasy Sae is pottering around in the back garden. This doesn't strike me as odd until I glance at the clock and see that the time is ten to seven. Effie and my prep team should be all over me right now. I take an arrow from my quiver and put it into the bow, tensing the string, becoming accustomed to it a little more. The back door stands open, obviously left like that by Sae, allowing a soft breeze to flow into the room. I lean against the door frame for a few minutes staring out at the setting sun and watching Greasy Sae pruning our primrose bush.

'Katniss!' a voice cries and I jump, turning quickly towards the intruder. It's Haymitch. 'The interview! What are you doing? The people of Panem always look to you in times like this, and you're going to stand them up?' he growls. This ticks me off.

'I'm not standing anyone up,' I say and brush past him. He hurries after me and I sweep out of the door to see people lining the streets, waiting for me. Haymitch stands next to me and nudges me in the ribs.

'Surprise,' he whispers dully. Suddenly, Peeta is by my side, and taking my hand.

'We've been looking for you everywhere. Everyone's waiting,' he says under his breath and holds out his hand in a gesture for me to begin walking. As we begin our procession I flashback to our debut at the Hunger Games when Peeta held my hand for the first time, we kept each other steady during that ride, just as we do now.

We step into the space cleared for us and make our way to the square. Someone starts to clap. Another person follows until the whole crowd is clapping. I look all around and see tears everywhere. There is a District Twelve flag moving slowly in the breeze, banners with my face, Peeta's face, and some others that I can't make out.

I don't cry. It's a struggle to hide how much this affects me but I'm trying to be strong. When we reach the square, the clapping is deafening but nobody is cheering. Every face I see is sombre, teary, distraught or at the very least dejected. There is a small podium set up with a single arrow waiting on a round table covered by a red silk cloth.

Peeta helps me onto the podium and steps up after me. He waits at the side while I move closer to the table. The arrow is black, but it has golden writing engraved down one side. It reads: _DISTRICT TWELVE. WE REMEMBER. _I briefly wonder who made this arrow and thank them silently for such a beautiful one. Rue and Prim deserve it and much more. I know Rue was District Eleven, but she belongs in my heart just the same way Prim does. A lump in my throat rises and I swallow, hard. When I stretch out my hand to pick up the arrow the clapping immediately dies away.

The silence is almost painful as I pick it up and swing my bow around, clipping the arrow into place. I take a deep breath and turn to face the watching crowd.

I try to ignore the faces directly in front of me: Gale, Gloriana, Haymitch, Effie and the prep team—I'm almost sure Sae is watching this on our television in The Village. Maybe Robin is watching, too. I did promise he could see me shoot.

I feel, rather than see, the insects all around me, watching my every move. I close my eyes and tilt the arrow up towards the cloudless blue sky.

The string pulls back, almost as though it moves by itself, and just as I release it, the tip bursts into flame before soaring into the blood red sky like a comet. Everyone watches it go and a sudden fatigue washes through me. I can't keep up the façade any longer. Tears leak from my eyes and roll down my cheeks, dripping onto the podium floor. I watch until the arrow falls, far outside of the perimeter of District Twelve, the fire glimmering out in the distance.

I drop my bow to my side and look at Peeta; he's watching the place where the arrow went down. He looks back at me before anyone else has turned back around, and joins me in the centre of the stage.

From nowhere, three attendants arrive, pulling more cameras, chairs and sound kits from thin air. A man with purple hair steps onto the stage. I double take and step back reflexively. This is the first time I've been close to someone directly involved in the Hunger Games, other than Peeta, since the day we breached the arena perimeter—I don't count Plutarch Heavensbee.

Caesar Flickerman, the Hunger Games interviewer.

My mouth moves but no sound comes out. It takes a minute for me to regain my composure: Caesar was never responsible for the games, he was, in fact, nice about it and at the time he seemed genuinely affected by mine and Peeta's story. He holds his hand out for us to shake and I'm abruptly very aware of the cameras trained on us. Peeta immediately takes his hand and I follow suit, swallowing my sudden revulsion. It seems no matter how hard I try, they won't let me forget the Games.

Caesar gestures that we sit in the wooden chairs erected for us on the podium. I'm conscious that I hadn't even thought about what to say for this interview. Once again, I'll wind up following Peeta's lead. Caesar clears his throat and shifts position in his chair until he is facing the camera, which immediately homes in on his face.

'Good evening, and welcome to our District Twelve Remembrance Day ceremony. We have all witnessed the flaming arrow opening and we all realise the significance of this day and the terrible losses it reminds us of.' He shifts in his chair, no doubt letting his words sink in. 'However, we must not forget. We should forgive ourselves and others but we should never forget. And for this reason, I have with me today Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.'

I clear my throat softly but Caesar doesn't look at me and Peeta squeezes my hand. I can see a few of the audience members exchanging confused looks. Caesar carries on as if nothing has happened. I frown—why doesn't he tell Panem that Peeta and I are married? It's not like it's a secret.

'Now, Katniss and Peeta, we all know that today must be hard for you. As some of the only remaining survivors of the Hunger Games, a huge burden falls upon your shoulders to remind the world why we must never go back to those days. What are your thoughts about this so far, Peeta?'

'Well, it's obvious that it's difficult, we lost almost every set of tributes that competed. Only Katniss and I, Haymitch and one other from District Twelve ever won. I know we didn't know them all personally but it still hurts to realise there were so many young people's lives lost for entertainment. I remember the craziness of the Games, the savagery, the hatred it caused between Districts. Absolute chaos, cleverly disguised as order. Of course, the Capitol kept us at each other's throats because it kept us at bay; kept us distracted. The years since its destruction are the best Panem has ever experienced: fruitful, friendly and infinitely safer. We have nothing to fear, now,' he concludes.

I look at him; his eyes are ablaze, his face hard and filled with compassion. My heart flutters and I force my face back to the front. The silent audience looks back to Caesar who rather seems like he is about to cry, himself. His purple eyelids and lips are garish against his pale features. I feel queasy; he should have toned it down for Remembrance Day.

He turns his head towards me and I try to summon a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. 'And Katniss, the thing we most want to hear from you is how you survived Primrose's death.' I freeze. My eyes are huge and my palms instantly become slick. I am almost unsurprised that he would bring her up. Almost. It is not something I wish to discuss on this day, of all days. I see Gale shift his weight out of the corner of my eye. Without much conviction, I try to unlock my jaw to form words but I'm scared that if I move, I'll lash out at Caesar and with my bow in hand and quiver on my back I don't want to do anything too rash. 'Katniss?' Caesar probes. His voice grates on my already frayed nerves. I can hear whispers running through the crowd; a red-hot poker dipped in water.

My fingers curl into fists and the insect-like cameras never waver from my face. Peeta starts to speak but a sound engineer with a black earphone and mouthpiece waves his hand at him, in a _kill_ gesture, signalling him to be quiet.

'Katniss, dear, I think Panem is waiting to hear your answer. How did you cope after Prim's death?' he asked, his tone has a clipped edge to it now. To hear him use my nickname for her sets my teeth right on edge.

'Prim's death was a completely different matter,' Peeta mutters, ignoring the sound engineer who is furiously waving at him, trying to silence his next words. 'Her death was an accident; she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.' Caesar turns towards him and leans forward slightly.

'So, the rumours that Katniss' best friend killed her aren't true?' he whispers as the entire audience appears to lean forwards slightly. Gale twitches and I jump from my chair, throwing it backwards off the stage.

'How dare you assume to talk about my family like that?' I hiss and the cameras zoom in on my face. I can feel Peeta tugging my arm and I can see Effie and Haymitch frozen in varying positions of stress, my prep team's mouths all hung open in identical 'O' shapes. The sight would have been comical if the situation was not so serious. I immediately feel Peeta's arms lock around mine in an attempt to drag me back to my chair but I don't move.

The hand that holds my bow twitches violently and a camera trains onto it—it is all I can do to not whip out an arrow and shoot him on the spot. Caesar stares at me, his pupils dilated from shock and something that looks very like fear, which completely bewilders me. Enough that I hesitate for just one moment and Peeta is able to tug me back towards him. He presses me into his chair while someone from the crowd retrieves my own seat.

Caesar recovers quickly and turns back to the camera.

'I see The Girl on Fire will always be with us, and it's that spark of bravery and passion that keeps Panem going through difficult times,' he says, with an attempt at empathy. I grit my teeth as Peeta sits in my chair—the one closest to Caesar. It doesn't surprise me that Peeta wants me away from him: I was just about to shoot television's most famous and best loved presenter.

I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, and see a tall, dark haired figure vanishing into the crowd. I don't say anything for the rest of the interview and I can still hear people muttering in the crowd. I really need to get my emotions in check. I myself had suspected it had been Gale's invention that killed Prim, but I chose not to believe it. I'd just lost my sister; I wasn't losing my best friend as well.

Peeta answers the rest of the questions quickly and politely, but I can hear the tension in his voice, his clipped tone and I wonder if anyone else can. As soon as the interview is over, Peeta guides me from the stage and leads me to an alleyway behind the small sweet shop—far from prying eyes, or video cameras. He puts his arms around me and presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back, feeling his strong body against me. He pulls away, too quickly for my liking, and holds my face delicately between his hands.

'Are you OK?' he asks, his eyes filled with concern. I nod but all my rage surges back to me anyway.

'I can't believe he publically blamed Gale for Prim's death,' my voice breaks at the end of my sentence and Peeta's hands tense almost imperceptibly. I wonder what my almost-murder will say to the rest of Panem. I hoped they hadn't noticed the twitch in my hand when I'd stood; it had been a pretty big giveaway.

'I know, he's not the same Caesar as the Hunger Games' Caesar,' Peeta muses. He has changed, Peeta is right. He was never so outright and he would never have brought up a subject that was obviously going to stir trouble.

'I don't understand,' I murmur. Peeta nods and threads our hands together.

'Let's go home. I hope Effie had the sense to take Gloriana home,' Peeta says, towing me down the alleyway, back towards the square which is almost empty.

Only the cameramen and sound engineers remain, packing away their equipment. Peeta stops suddenly and I walk straight into him. I'm about to ask him what's wrong when he pushes me into the shadows of the sweetshop and holds his hand over my mouth, his eyes warning me to keep silent. My own eyes widen in surprise and I try to turn to see what's happening but he just shakes his head and taps his ear. I take that as a sign to listen, so I tilt my head towards the square and hear the insect's conversation.

'…thought she would have shot him,' one was saying, obviously assuming I would have killed Caesar outright after he accused Gale.

'Yeah, I thought that too. It's probably going to throw a spanner in the works,' another replies.

'I don't think we're even allowed to know this stuff. They would have mentioned it when they hired us. It's funny that Kingsley overheard them talking about it,' guffaws a third crew-member. I frown at Peeta. He looks just as confused as me. The technical crew's conversation was not what we thought it was. What is the "works" they are discussing?

'I can't believe Caesar knows about the plan! It's really brave of him to accept considering he would probably have died. I remember watching her shoot that boy in the neck after he killed the little girl from Eleven. Didn't even flinch,' says the first.

'He doesn't know! Obviously not, Nim. Would you allow yourself to get shot for them? I wouldn't.'

'Don't be an idiot, Nim,' agrees another. The one called Nim frowns and packs up the final piece of his camera, waits for the others to finish and they leave together, moving in the direction of the train station. Peeta removes his hand from my mouth and frowns after the insects.

'What was that all about?' I ask no one in particular. Peeta doesn't reply immediately.

'I wonder who they're working for. Somehow this whole plan they're talking about depended on you shooting Caesar. I think he might have been scripted. That's why he was so off tonight,' Peeta concludes thoughtfully. I have to agree with him, even though it just doesn't make sense. Who would care about us now? Our enemies are long dead.

We begin to make our way back to The Village, contemplating what we've just heard. When we reach the house, Effie and Haymitch are just leaving, and they are arguing, as usual.

'…poor girl! She's to be thirteen; she shouldn't be learning that sort of language. She'll probably be scarred now,' Effie is exclaiming.

'She should toughen up! Kids need character building—oh, hi Peeta, Katniss,' Haymitch says, shame colouring his features.

'Talking about Gloriana?' Peeta asks. Haymitch immediately begins to shake his head and protest but Effie nods vigorously and recounts Haymitch's attempt to teach her language usually only heard in the backstreets and the black market.

I want to be shocked but I'm still puzzling over the conversation in the square.

'Thanks so much,' Haymitch says sourly to Effie who smiles in a mordantly gracious way. She bids us all goodnight and struts past us, wobbling on her intolerably high shoes. Haymitch mumbles something that sounds like an apology but I can't be sure because it's not something he does very often. He offers us a hurried goodnight and heads for his own house.

It's always fun conversing with Haymitch and Effie at the same time. I usually learn something I didn't know before.

'You know, I think those two have something special. It's like a special bond. There's a fine line between love and hate,' Peeta says, trying not to laugh. I snort and pull him up the steps. When we reach the porch I pull him close to me and stretch up to kiss him. He immediately leans down to receive me. When we finally draw away we just stand and stare at each other for a few minutes.

I take in his perfect blue eyes and how they seem to go on forever, his strong chin and his waves of blonde hair that I brush from his eyes. His mouth finds mine again after another moment of in-depth staring. I can feel the pressure of his lips on mine and my heart reacts in much the same way it did the first time we ever kissed properly. I get goose-bumps all over my body; it feels as though an electric shock is running through my hands; a coiling sensation in the pit of my stomach, too.

This is another of those perfect moments—darkness is just falling and the lights in the streets are flickering on just in time to light up our kiss. I push my fingers into his hair and he lifts me up and carries me into the house like I weigh nothing.

He presses me against a wall and his hands run up my spine and into my hair. We hear the television from the front room, where Sae must be. I break away from Peeta to listen but I think she's asleep. He tries to kiss me again and complains when I turn my head so his lips catch my cheek. I giggle and shush him for a moment but he just moves his mouth to my exposed neck. I sigh and he clicks the lock on the door shut behind him and carries me upstairs, never removing his lips from my skin.

All thoughts of our earlier conversation have been very effectively wiped from my mind. When we reach the upstairs hallway, Peeta's kisses become more urgent and his footsteps quicker as he bursts through our bedroom door, kicking it closed after him.

All the troublesome thoughts from the square become evasive—unimportant irritants that float out of my head as though they were no more than loose feathers, passing in a light breeze.


	4. Chapter 4

**Not much relevant to the plot in this chapter - it's a connecting link, I think. A little bit of foreshadowing here and there but nothing major. If you're reading this then thank you very much, I really appreciate it, and as always, reviews are welcomed. All rights to Suzanne Collins: I own nothing, of course.**

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Chapter 4

The next morning I wake to find myself lying across Peeta's chest, sunlight glinting from his hair, hand gently tracing the contours of my spine.

I sit up and smile at him. He leans over and grazes his lips across my shoulder.

'How long have you been awake?' I ask, yawning slightly at the end of my sentence.

'A while,' he replies simply.

'Why didn't you wake me?'

'You looked so peaceful lying there; I couldn't stand to wake you. And I was reluctant to disrupt your first peaceful sleep in weeks,' he murmurs, pushing my hair behind my ears. My braid must have fallen out at some point during the night. I make to get out of bed, but Peeta just drags me back down and kisses the top of my head. I laugh but don't try to get up again. I definitely don't mind this part of the day. We lie together until the sun has shifted position in the sky and we hear Greasy Sae singing in the kitchen and banging pots around to prepare breakfast.

'We should get up,' I say heavily but I make no move to follow my statement. Peeta smiles and pulls me a little closer.

'I'm not ready to get up yet,' he replies. He strokes my hair and it's so comfortable my resolve almost melts.

'Peeta…' I almost plead, knowing full well that I'll never be able to get up unless he lets me go. He sighs but releases me and stands up himself, holding his hand out to pull me to the bathroom.

'There's still the shower…' he says smiling wickedly. I laugh and flick the bathroom lock—it might be a tad awkward if someone decides to walk in on us, as the people both in and out of this house have an extremely annoying tendency to do.

When we finally emerge from the bathroom, dressed and prepared for the day we go downstairs, our hands linked, talking and laughing, none of yesterday's troubles rearing their ugly heads as yet. When we enter the kitchen Sae has laid out an enormous breakfast.

'Are we expecting company?' I ask Peeta, who merely shrugs. As if on cue there is a knock at the front door which I go to answer. I find Effie on the doorstep, straightening her ever-tilting wig.

'Morning, Katniss,' she says exasperatedly. Vaguely, I wonder what's badgering her this time.

'Hi, Effie. Are you coming in for breakfast?' I ask her. She nods fervently.

'Oh, please. I haven't eaten since yesterday before that, uh, eventful ceremony,' she says with a deliberate emphasis. I roll my eyes and open the door wider for her. 'The service in this District isn't too good, even in the catering industry.' Trust Effie to find a fault in the new and improved district.

'I take it Haymitch is sleeping in? That permanent hangover must be hurting,' I laugh as I hang Effie's coat on the rack alongside my bow.

It strikes me as odd that Gale's bow is missing. He wouldn't be hunting without me, would he? I show Effie to the kitchen then go upstairs to Gale's room. A tentative knock doesn't get me a reply, so I poke my head around the door. The room is empty, though the bed has been slept in.

'Gale?' I call, hoping he'll reply. Nothing. He must have gone hunting early this morning. I shake away the hurt feeling this leaves me with—these are just as much Gale's woods as mine. I return downstairs to discover Greasy Sae has skinned and prepared some of the pig meat for us.

Peeta and Effie are already eating by the time I sit down so I dig right in, heaping my plate with pancakes, bacon, and some plum jam on bread. We are quickly joined by Octavia—she is the only one of the prep team awake at this hour, and she pours a large mug of coffee immediately. Being residents of the Capitol they are very used to getting up late.

As we are finishing our meal, the front door opens and a brisk breeze blows in accompanied by excited shouts and much chatter. I freeze as Gale enters the kitchen, bow in hand, followed by Robin and Gloriana, who, it is clear by their faces, have just been out hunting. I am suddenly on my feet, my rage flaring right away.

'Can I speak to you a moment, Gale? Outside,' I hiss. Peeta stands up too, slightly slower than me but I can feel his anger burning, slow and fiery, at my side. Effie and Octavia have fallen silent—they can sense the barely concealed fury in the air. I hardly notice them; a red haze has clouded my vision.

'Uh, I don't think I want to,' he mumbles. At least he has the decency to hang his head. I told him. I told him I didn't want my children near violence or weapons. I warned him. He cannot be so stupid as to not take me seriously. He knows how I feel about it!

I march around the table and drag him into the front garden, Peeta follows at my heels. 'What were you thinking?' I shout, 'I told you not to even think about it! How many times have I said I don't want it for them?' Gale holds up his hands as though to deflect my words. 'You can't be that brainless! I wasn't kidding about when I warned you! I swear to God, Gale—' I feel Peeta's arms ensnare my waist, warning me what happens when I let my temper run away with me. I stop speaking, my words too confused to be coherent.

'I'm sorry, Katniss! They need someone to help them. If you won't do it, then I will! What if the worst happens and they need to know these things? If you hadn't known how to shoot, you'd have died in the arena! So, get off your high-horse and recognise when someone's doing you a favour!' Gale shouts back at me.

'I think you should leave,' Peeta mutters. I choke out a half-formed objection, and then stop myself. I'm angry at Gale. Very angry.

'Is that what you want, Catnip?' Gale asks me softly. That look in his eyes—suddenly I can make neither head nor tail of what I want. I feel Peeta freeze behind me and his muscles bunch under his shirt, where I hold his arm—mostly to stop myself from launching at Gale and attacking him. 'I'll leave if you want, just say the word.' It so isn't fair of him to do this to me. I slump in Peeta's arms.

'No,' I mumble, 'but I will not have you going near the woods again, not with my children in tow.' My tone says there will be no more arguments and, mercifully, he seems to recognise this and inclines his head in acquiescence.

I shake Peeta off and stomp indoors, trying to control my irritation. Peeta's voice floats back to me as I flop against the wall, just inside the front door.

'If you ever hurt her like that again, I will kill you,' he says, his voice deadly and menacing. 'The only reason you're still standing is that she wants you here and she'd be upset if I killed you. Do not take my children anywhere without my permission ever again.'

'You couldn't kill me with both hands, Mellark,' Gale hisses, venom colouring his words. I frown. I don't like it when they fight but I'm too worn out to stop them. Their relationship has steadily worsened recently and I'm beginning to think they are genetically programmed to hate each other.

'Don't tempt me, Gale. Katniss is the only reason I allow you to be here, but I bet if I made a good case she'd change her mind. I would never force her to choose between us but I think it's pretty clear that you are not, and nor will you ever be again, as big a part of her life as you once were. She won't stand for your blatant disregard for our children's safety and neither will I. Watch your back.'

I hear his footsteps moving towards the door so I jump up and slide into the bathroom where I can collect myself before facing the rest of my family, Effie and Octavia. I lean against the shower rail and press my hand to my forehead.

I shouldn't be this angry at Gale but I'm just so scared that Ana and Robin will get hurt. I can't lose them anymore than I could lose Peeta. I've only had two days with Gale; it could be months before I see him again, but he shouldn't be allowed to just do whatever he pleases where my children are concerned. I splash some water on my face, which calms me, and return to the kitchen.

Nobody speaks until breakfast is finished and Effie asks if we want to watch our interview on television. This is not something I had thought about, but I do, out of some morbid fascination, want to see how I came across after the comment about Prim. Yes, Caesar tried to pass it off as spirit but anyone could have seen through that.

We all troop through to watch the interview, Gloriana and Robin bouncing excitedly. My lips twists as I watch them. Perhaps that they had no first-hand experience of the Games means they don't fully understand what it meant.

We settle into seats, me leaning against Peeta's side with my feet tucked up under me and his arm around me, Effie sits perched on the edge of an arm chair, Octavia dithers for a moment but then sits on the other end of our couch and Gale lounges across another sofa. I can almost hear Peeta's teeth grinding together at this. Gloriana sits crossed legged on the floor by Gale and Robin joins her, trying to copy her casual posture. Effie finds the Remembrance channel which plays twenty four hours a day, showing all different ceremonies from over the years. Ours is playing every half hour and we're just in time to catch the start.

It opens with Peeta and I walking hand in hand down the aisle of clapping people, our faces sombre. I don't think I ever really got used to seeing my face on television but it is even stranger now than it ever was. There is something about my face that is different now, than when I was younger. Another layer of pain. Maybe that was just because the day was so sad.

When I shoot the flaming arrow I realise that I look dark, dangerous and completely at ease with my bow. It is an extension of myself. It's more than just a weapon I carry; it carries me too. Waves of nerves roll through me as the interview begins. I watch Peeta answer his question flawlessly and then the camera turns to my face as Caesar asks the question about Prim.

The image holds on my face as shock freezes my muscles in place. I lean into Peeta slightly more as the interview goes on. When I jump up and kick away my chair I actually flinch, even though I knew it had been about to happen.

'So, the rumours that Katniss' best friend killed her aren't true?' I hear Caesar's voice ask—his tone is odd, like he's struggling with something. The insects conversation from the square floats back to me and I frown.

And there it is. The movement. My hand is unmistakably moving my bow in a fashion which would end Caesar's life. It gets its own close-up. But then Peeta has a hold of me and is throwing me into a chair.

I release a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding until now. The camera shows a sweeping shot of the crowds and their shocked faces. Cringing into Peeta's chest, he holds me tightly.

'It's not that bad,' he whispers reassuringly into my ear. I still don't turn to face the television. I'm ashamed of myself. I should have found Caesar and apologised but the insect's conversation is still irritating me. I don't understand why they were hoping so much for me to shoot him—it would have caused international outrage and panic.

I have to remember that my mockingjay image and my temper should never have to compete. I need to learn to control my emotions but the situations that bring out the worst in me always seem to arise at the most inopportune moments.

When the interview finishes, I know by the silence ringing throughout the room that it was bad. Much worse than anyone had expected.

'It doesn't look good, does it?' I say, more to myself than anyone else. Peeta rests his head on top of mine and Gale rubs the back of his neck. Effie, for once, is at a loss for something to say.

'I thought you looked scary momma,' pipes up Robin from the floor. 'I mean, you looked cool and everything, but I would have been scared of you if I was that presenter,' he tells us matter-of-factly. I blink in surprise. I did look scary. The black eyes, pale skin and deadly weapon must have given that impression. 'You're really good at shooting arrows!' he says excitedly. I smile weakly at him and everyone else in the room laughs. Glancing at Gale, who is staring out of the window, the realisation that he has been right all along begins to dawn in my mind.

'Gloriana, Robin, why don't you go outside for a while? I think some fresh air would do you good,' I suggest. Gloriana skips out of the room, her hair fanning out around her and Robin hurries after her, not wanting to miss anything. I wait until they are out of earshot.

'We're teaching them to fight,' I say. Gale's head turns slowly to face me and I expect to see some kind of mocking smile there but he just looks sad. I don't linger on this too long but turn to look at Peeta who looks thoughtful.

'I agree with you. Gale might be completely over-estimating himself and his skills as a hunter and that he actually believed he could protect Ana and Robin if it came down to it,' he says indignantly, and his voice holds a little more venom than is strictly necessary, 'but he has the right idea. You never know when they might come in handy anyway. And if we ever did go back to the old days, I'd want them to be prepared for anything,' he declares after much deliberation.

'I am not the one over-estimating myself here,' Gale sneers, 'I know my strength and my skills, but I also know other people and their abilities. I know when someone is all talk.'

'We start tomorrow,' I tell the room at large, ignoring Gale's comments.

'Once a week?' Peeta adds.

'To begin with,' I agree, 'I'll go and tell them they need to be up early for it,' I say and work my way out of Peeta's arms. When I reach the back door, I hear them chattering outside, discussing the Hunger Games. I swallow nervously. Gloriana is breaking it down for him—no doubt the parts that Peeta and I thought it appropriate to leave out. The horrors of the Games are not for eight-year-old ears.

'…mom shot an arrow into a boy's neck and there was blood everywhere!' Robin squeals in excitement and Gloriana carries on recounting the story. I frown but listen closer. 'And then she ran over to the little girl—she looked so scary! Her face was all pale and her eyes were, like, on fire! I thought she'd at least kick the other boy, but he was already dead.'

I clear my throat and they both fall silent. When I push the door open I see Gloriana standing over Robin who is watching her avidly, admiration in his innocent eyes. He lies on his stomach on the grass, his hands supporting his face which is filled with excitement and wonder at his sister's tale.

'Tomorrow,' I begin, my hands sweating slightly, 'we're going to teach you how to handle a weapon.' They both begin murmuring excitedly but I hold my hands up and wait for them to stop, 'Just the basics though, don't get too excited.' Gloriana looks downcast but Robin just grins at me, the gap between his teeth showing.

'I want to learn to shoot like you Momma,' he tells me, making no attempt to hide his new knowledge. Gloriana tries to kick him inconspicuously. I raise my eyebrows and she drops her gaze.

'OK, I'll get you up early tomorrow.' As I leave they immediately begin discussing what they want to learn, and my heart constricts just a little.

When I return to the sitting room, I find that Effie and Octavia have gone and I can hear Gale in the kitchen humming to himself.

'They want to learn,' I say, standing before Peeta, my voice heavy.

'Of course they do,' he replies, tugging me down until I'm sitting on his knee.

'It worries me they're so ready to kill,' I say, biting my nails. Peeta draws my hand away from my mouth and kisses my fingertips. 'Robin's only eight. Even in the days of the Hunger Games, the kids that competed were all twelve and over.'

'When you're ready, you're ready I guess,' Peeta says, resting his chin on my shoulder. They should never _need _to be ready. I sigh and lean my cheek on his head. We sit like this for a while, mulling over the situation.

We hear the door open behind us and Gale comes in, his bow in hand.

'You up for hunting, Katniss?' He pauses when he sees us, sitting together, 'Uh, should I come back later?'

I turn towards him, and stand up from Peeta's lap.

'No, we'll go now,' I reply. 'Didn't you just go out this morning, though?'

'Gloriana and Robin wouldn't stop talking long enough for game to get near us,' he says, shrugging. I laugh and kiss Peeta's soft lips. He kisses me back and strokes my cheek.

'Catch something good.' Turning to Gale, he says, 'Look after her. If you know what's good for you.' He gets up and heads to his painting studio. Sighing, I stretch and check the weather.

'Do you think it will rain?' I ask Gale.

'Looks like it, you'd better take a jacket.' I grin. Rain on a hunting trip makes it harder, more exciting. I go to the front door, Gale following at my heels and pull on my leather boots.

Just as I do so, thunder rumbles in the distance.

'This is going to be a very soggy hunting trip,' I murmur.

'We'll need to move quickly and get something everything vanishes,' Gale says twitching a curtain away from a window. I tug my hunting jacket on and grab my bow, double checking my knife is in its sheath. Ever since the Hunger Games, my knife has never left my belt.

'We can check our strawberry and fishing nets,' Gale points out as we leave the house.

The air is muggy, humid and sticky and immediately the leather of my jacket clings to my skin.

'OK, let's move fast,' I say and we begin to jog down the street, all thoughts of our argument forgotten in our enthusiasm for hunting. There is almost no one around; every shop owner has brought their wares indoors for the coming storm.

By the time we get to the gate the law enforcement officer is inside his little hut.

'Are you crazy? Hunting in this weather is dangerous,' he calls out to us. Gale and I grin at each other. It's always more exciting like this. And besides, it's been a long time since anything really exhilarating happened in my life. Normality isn't all it's cracked up to be, all the time.

The guard shrugs and slides his access card into a slot inside his cabin. The gate buzzes and we pull it open, darting into the forest. The animals are all hiding; they feel the electricity in the air. We drift through the trees, searching for the slightest sign of movement. I flick my bow up into the canopy over our heads. No birds are singing. A drop of rain lands on my face.

'This is it,' I say to Gale, 'the rain's starting.'

'Good, it's no fun if it's too easy.' We press together, watching each other's back, our dispute from earlier completely forgone now in the face of the hunt. The rain begins to splash down through the trees, the drops enormous and heavy but warm. It bounces off my jacket and sinks into my hair, weighting my braid.

Luckily the rain bounds off the forest floor loudly and completely muffles the sound of our footsteps. Soon, the rain becomes too heavy to tell which part of the forest we are in.

Gale occasionally checks his watch, which has a compass inlaid and reminds me we are still on the right track. We finally come across our twitch-up snares and take down the four rabbits that are strung in them and Gale deposits them in his game bag. We know that our strawberry patch is relatively close to our snares so it's pretty obvious where we have to go and how to get there, even in the rain. When we reach it, we strip it of its fruits and fill our bags with them. We take another hour or so to get some more rabbits caught in the storm and then decide that it's the best we're going to get. We make our way back towards the District, and if we hadn't known the forest so well there's no way we'd have made it back in this weather. When we eventually find our way back to the fence, we are both drenched but laughing.

The law enforcement officer is reading his paper and glances up to see us with full game bags. He laughs incredulously and opens the gate for us.

'Only you two could catch animals in this weather,' he says, shaking his head. We thank him and walk back to the square, the rain still bouncing off the ground. It runs down my neck but I'm so sodden I barely notice anything. We sell a few of the rabbits to the butcher and half of the strawberries go to a family in a new development of the town. They have seven children and tell us they need a lot of jam.

I trade two rabbits for a few packets of sweets at the sweet shop and then we head home. We leave the remaining few rabbits in the shed outside for Sae in the morning but carry the strawberries inside.

'I'm going for a shower,' I tell Gale who says the same and heads into the downstairs bathroom while I go upstairs. My wet clothes make their way to a wicker basket under the window, and I begin to shiver, goose bumps rising on my arms and legs as the water cools and lowers my body temperature. I take a long, hot shower and then blow dry my hair, rather than braid it, leaving it straight and silky, easy to comb through with my fingers. Once I have picked an outfit of soft leggings and a red shift top, I slide my feet into leather shoes that tie at the front. They are very soft and have no sole which makes them perfect for indoor wear.

I go downstairs and into Peeta's studio, where the walls are lined with his paintings of our Hunger Games. They are exquisitely painted but I try not to look at them too much. Especially the one with a dark skinned girl standing in the branches of a tree, her eyes alert and flashing.

He's working on a new painting—just an outline at this stage but the concentration on his face shows that it's taken a lot to get him to this point. Thunder rumbles again and lightning illuminates the room, which has grown very dark due to the storm clouds. I ghost to his shoulder, lean over and kiss his jaw. He jumps slightly but recovers quickly and slides his hand up my face, keeping me positioned at his side.

'Did you catch anything good?' he asks.

'Just a few rabbits but we got some strawberries as well. They're in the refrigerator,' I say, shrugging.

'Well, that's pretty good, considering the weather,' he replies, nodding.

'What are you painting?' I ask, absently running my fingertips through the hair at the nape of his neck.

'I think it's going to be the old District Twelve,' he says thoughtfully. I nod and struggle to swallow the lump that rises in my throat.

'That will be nice,' I tell him, but I can't stick around to watch.

For the rest of the day, I potter about the house, tidying as I go, chatting to visitors—which we get frequently. I attempt to prepare dinner but I give up half way through and wait for Greasy Sae to rescue me.

While she hums tunelessly behind me, I sit in my favourite armchair before the fire and watch the flames flickering. I think about how much I like the warmth and comfort it provides—the crackling sound is very homey.

'Lamb stew, tonight,' Sae informs me.

'Hmm,' I reply vaguely, unable to tear my eyes from the fire. The rain battering against the window sounds very odd in comparison with the calming sounds of the stew simmering in the background and the fire crackling and popping before me.

'I've no plums to put on it though, sorry about that,' she says. I shake my head, still without taking my eyes from the fire.

'Doesn't matter. I'm sure it'll be nice on its own,' I say. Her humming starts back up again and I know she'll be done soon. I stand up from my comfortable seat and call Gloriana and Robin to dinner. Peeta comes in just as I do so, wiping paint smears on his overalls.

'Wash your hands,' I say. He grins and rinses his hands in the sink. Sae puts out our food and I pass her money.

'Thanks Sae, see you tomorrow?' I ask. She assures me that I will and leaves into the downpour.

'Gale, Gloriana, Robin! Dinner!' I call out the kitchen door, when they don't appear immediately.

'Look at you, and your parenting skills,' Gale smirks, coming down the stairs. I smile in response.

'I'm pretty good, aren't I?' I agree and we walk into the kitchen together.

Conversation around the table is quite forced and I chalk it up to Gale and Peeta's absolute refusal to recognise each other's presence, which only means they constantly vie for the attention of the rest of us. Once Gloriana and Robin have left the kitchen to play in their rooms I slam my hands on the table.

'For God's sake, you two! Peeta, Gale has saved your life; don't you owe him a favour?' Peeta starts to protest but I carry on as though he did not open his mouth, 'And Gale, Peeta saved _my _life. Countless times. In fact, you've _both_ saved my life several times. Doesn't that count for anything? You must have something in common. Stop arguing! You're so childish!' I say exasperatedly. They both stare at me.

'We do have _one _thing in common,' Peeta says after a moment. 'We never stop being surprised by you.' Gale nods in agreement.

'Good. Hold on to that. If you're going to fight, do it when I'm not around,' I say forcefully.

Peeta grimaces slightly but holds his hand out for Gale to shake. Gale hesitates until I clear my throat pointedly. He grasps Peeta's hand and they shake once and release each other. I roll my eyes.

'Very masculine,' I say mordantly and begin to clear the dinner plates away from the table. I begin a conversation about the rain, hoping they will join in but only Peeta has ever been good at talking out of all three of us. It doesn't last long. Gale excuses himself and Peeta helps me tidy the kitchen.

'I'm sorry,' he says suddenly. His voice is so sorrowful, so filled with emotion, I turn in surprise. He holds a stack of clean dishes in his hands but he doesn't look at me.

'For what?' I ask, bewildered.

'Hurting you. I can see how much it pains you not having him around,' he says, finally letting his eyes flick upwards into mine. I put down the dishcloth I'd been holding.

'It hurts me more when you're not here,' I say in a small voice. Now it's my turn not to look him in the eyes. 'Sure, I miss him when he's not here, but I can't be apart from you for more than a few hours anymore. It hurts,' I say haltingly, lamely. Discussions involving emotional declarations are not my strong suit, though Peeta has brought out my softer side these past years. I can relate to him much more easily than others. I _want _him to know how I feel about him.

All of a sudden, I'm in his arms and he's kissing me desperately. 'I'll never leave you. I promise,' he whispers. I smile against his mouth and lean into his chest, my hands sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck. I'm struck my how profound this moment is—not just the physical side. We haven't had one quite like it in a while. Not since Gloriana was young. It makes me feel lighter, happier. Peeta glides his nose across my jaw and plants a butterfly kiss on my cheekbone and we stand like this for a long time, revelling in the closeness.

It's completely dark outside before we move again.

'I think I have your outline imprinted on my shirt now,' Peeta says, lightening the sober atmosphere in the kitchen. I laugh and brush his chest, as though wiping away invisible dust.

The rest of the night passes in an ordinary way: Peeta and I play with Robin and Gloriana, get them bathed and ready for bed, I sing them to sleep while Peeta works on his painting, I call my mother as I do once every week—we discuss her job, her life in the Capitol and my own life—and Peeta and I curl up on the couch and watch some television. Watching television is a new concept for us. It took us a long time to stop expecting the Capitol's constant stream of propaganda, but finally we learned to trust it and now we have a few programmes we like to watch. Mostly harmless comedy shows created by Districts Two and Three. After the upbringing we've had, we need a laugh every now and again.

I don't know where Gale is, nor have I any desire to find out. Peeta and Gale are on extremely shaky ground and I don't want to jeopardise any progress they may have made—or have been forced to make, rather. I know they only shook hands in the first place to appease me. I do wonder why Gale did it—he has no reason to do as I ask. Peeta, I can understand. It can only be our many years of friendship that puts Gale in the position of not wanting to hurt my feelings or our relationship.

With the television blaring and Peeta's arms around me, I get the same feeling I did in the kitchen, before the fire. Comfort. I know that nothing can harm us now. There's a stability that Peeta brings to my life, a stability he's always brought that allows me to feel completely at ease with him. Like we've known each other our whole lives—which we almost have.

Peeta definitely knew me before I knew him though. He told the entire country he'd first noticed me at five years old. My face flushes as I remember. I hadn't even noticed Peeta until he'd given me bread all those years ago. Little did we know how our fates had been interwoven from the beginning. In a way, that was one thing we had to thank the Games for. Each other.

The grandfather clock in the hallway strikes twelve and I flinch, pulling myself from my thoughts.

'Bed?' Peeta asks me, kissing my neck. I nod and accentuate this with a long yawn. Peeta laughs, folds me into his arms and carries me upstairs. I let him change me; it's nice to be babied.

'Are you hunting tomorrow? I know it's Gale's last day,' Peeta murmurs as we climb into bed together.

'Yeah, hunting's not so good on your own. Don't forget we have to be up at dawn tomorrow though, we're training our children to kill people,' I say, yawning. Peeta smiles into my hair and whispers goodnight. I turn over, my lips searching for his and, of course, he gives me what I want.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here I am again. I'm not sure if I'm going to keep updating this because I'm really not sure if it's being read? Or even enjoyed? It just seems like a lot of work for something that's not being read, ya feel? Depending on how this chapter goes, we'll see. So, once again, the rights are Suzanne Collins' and I own nothing but interpretation. I guess leave a review if you actually read this? It would be nice to know what people are thinking, if they're thinking at all...**

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Chapter 5

All too soon, the weak grey light of dawn is seeping through the curtains and annoying buzzing filters into my pleasant dream. I groan and feel around for the alarm clock before flinging it with the little strength I have and hear a satisfying crack as the screen breaks. I sigh with relief as the shiver-inducing noise ceases.

The sound of the breaking glass wakes Peeta and he leans over my shoulder, checking if I'm awake.

'Did you just smash our alarm clock?' he asks, his early-morning voice throaty, barely hiding his amusement.

'No,' I say and roll over to face him. 'I don't know who did that.' He smiles and kisses my forehead.

'Well, they better come back and clean it up.'

'We'd better get Ana and Robin up,' I say, rubbing my eyes.

'You can go back to sleep if you want. I'll train them,' he tells me, watching my face carefully. I can tell by the shadows under his eyes that I woke him in the night by tossing and turning.

'No, it's fine. I'm sorry for keeping you awake last night,' I say and use my thumbs to attempt to erase the black circles. He smiles and shakes his head.

'It's a small price that I am very willing to pay,' he tells me softly. I blush even though I should be used to his compliments.

'Stop it,' I say and swing my legs out of bed.

'You take a shower, I'll wake Ana and Robin,' he says, throwing me a soft white towel from the linen cupboard across the room. I nod and stumble to the bathroom, my body far behind my brain.

Once I have finished braiding my hair after my shower I don a simple outfit, very similar to the ones used in the training centre for the Hunger Games—sturdy but lightweight and good for running in. I unlock the adjoining room and retrieve my bow and arrows. Then I go into Gloriana's room to find Peeta helping her on with a simple waterproof jacket.

'It's damp and chilly outside,' he is telling her. 'Better wrap up, Glo.' She allows him to zip the jacket and he taps her nose.

'Have you dressed Robin?' I ask.

'Not yet, I thought you could do that while I shower,' he says. I nod and leave to locate my son. I find him in the bathroom across from his room, playfully splashing water from the sink onto the floor.

'Hey, what are you up to?' I ask, grinning, sweeping him into my arms. He screeches so I cover his mouth and tickle him until he stops. He mumbles something that sounds very like a promise to be quiet. Narrowing my eyes, I release him and set his little feet back on the floor.

'Come on, time to get ready for practice,' I tell him, offering him a hand. He takes it but skips slightly ahead of me, pulling me along. I rub a spot above my left eyebrow. How does he have so much energy at this time?

Once I have helped him into an outfit I deem suitable for the day I tell him to join Gloriana downstairs. As he races down the stairs, I meet Peeta leaving our bedroom, hair still damp from his shower, and he holds a hand out to me.

'You ready?' he asks me seriously.

'I think so,' I say and I'm surprised to hear how frail my voice sounds. He nods reassuringly and guides me out to the garden after Robin.

Peeta and I, when we first moved in together, decided that an armoury was a good idea. Just in case. And though we fought and fought for a normal life, there was always something in the back of our minds telling us that if we drop our guards, get too lax, we might get caught out. We had to have it well hidden in case a guest stumbled across it. Now, we cross to a seemingly innocent cupboard and pull open the door. With that, I feel as though something is shifting. I had hoped never to have to open this room.

Peeta pushes the rail of coats aside and presses his thumb to a scanner hidden beneath a false panel in the wall. A mechanical click sounds and the wall slides away to reveal a metal corridor about a metre long. We walk along it, never letting go of one another's hand. At the end of the corridor another door has a key pad next to it that requires a four digit code which I tap in quickly so that the door beeps and pops open a few inches. On the other side lies a fabulous array of weaponry mostly gleaned from the stores of District Thirteen, but others we'd commissioned ourselves. I take two more sets of basic bows and arrows and a large roll of cloth which, inside, holds a long row of throwing knives of all shapes and sizes.

Peeta also fills his arms with basic weaponry—a sword, a mace and a brandistock seems more than enough—and we head out of the vault, the door closing automatically behind us. When the four of us reach the garden, the sun is just beginning to clear the mountain tops but dew hangs on everything after the storm yesterday. I place the weapons on the wooden table and spread them out for everyone to look at.

'Gloriana,' I say and she looks up at me, her blue eyes alight with fervent excitement, 'I know you don't like the bow and arrow but I want you to try it for me.' She picks up the bow and pulls the string, just the way I do when I'm testing the tension. I show her how to place the arrow into it and how to position her fingers and she does so, quickly grasping the basics. Robin watches carefully and replicates this on the second bow, which Peeta helps him with. I raise the top of the bow up and instruct Gloriana to aim for one of the trees at the bottom of the garden.

She hits it, dead on a large knot. I can't help but smile smugly. That's my girl.

'Like mother, like daughter,' Peeta says proudly. I glance at him and see he is smiling too. It would be useless for me to try to deny that I'm proud of her—I am. But it just scares me so much to remember how awful my own childhood experience was. I don't want that for them.

Robin has a go and his arrow hits just below Gloriana's. We spend a few hours working on skills with a bow—always using steady targets. Some shots are better than others. By the time I'm satisfied they have the essentials the sun is high in the sky and any morning dew has curled into the air in thin tendrils of mist.

'Right, you both can handle a bow,' I say, that strange mixture of anxiety and pride threatening to choke me, 'let's try knives.' I lead them around the side of the house and attach five knives to their belts.

Peeta fixes a piece of paper to the wall and instructs them to hit it. Robin gets it in one but Gloriana takes a few tries before she strikes it. I show her how to flick her wrist in just the right way and she manages to hit the paper dead in the centre.

After a while, Greasy Sae arrives, carrying a basket filled with rolls from the pantry, cheese and apples. We take a break and have some lunch, listening to the birdsong. This feels so like a previous memory, as though I've been in this situation many times, and before I can stop myself, Rue's four note whistle slides between my lips. Peeta's head snaps round to me and I stare at him, unthinkingly. He is not used to hearing this. Neither am I. I haven't sung Rue's tune in years. Almost as if it is an echo, the notes are relayed back to us from a mockingjay, hidden somewhere high in the tree.

Peeta's eyes bore into mine and I can't take my eyes from his. Robin says something, but I barely hear it. Trying desperately to recover from my moment of panic, I clear my throat. I can't understand why I'd deliberately dredge up painful memories. Obviously Peeta is thinking the same.

Gloriana and Robin leave the table and pick up a few of the other weapons we'd left on the ground when we'd cleared the table to eat. I let them go. I'm having a moment. Peeta slides closer to me.

'Katniss? Are you alright?' he asks, his voice trembling with worry. I give a half nod.

'Why did I do that?' I whisper. By now, many mockingjays have taken up the tune and it is playing back like a symphony orchestra. Peeta doesn't reply but takes my hand and places his other hand against my cheek.

'It's beautiful,' he assures me, 'no matter why you did it, the mockingjays honour her.' I close my eyes and lean my head into his palm. How does he always know what to say?

'Right, I think that's enough training for one day,' Peeta calls in the direction of the children, where they are attempting to hit trees at the end of the garden with knives, but he never takes his eyes from mine. I blink a few times and finally drop my gaze. He links his fingers into mine to show me that he understands. We gather the scattered arms but just leave them on the kitchen table, too distracted to put them away yet.

Gale strolls in to see me sliding the knives back into the cloth roll. The scent of baking bread dances tantalisingly through the kitchen as Peeta busies himself by the oven.

'Did I miss it?' he asks disappointment in his voice.

'Yes, we started early,' I say, glancing up. 'Maybe if you come around more often you'll be able to help out.'

'You know I'll be here as often as I can,' he assures me and helps me return the knives to their sheaths. Peeta coughs slightly and Gale glowers at him. I flick the back of his hand and shoot him a warning look. He shrugs at me and rolls up the cloth.

'Hunting?' he asks me. I grin. Today is our last day together and we're definitely making the most of it. I immediately check my knife at my hip and drop a few extra arrows into my quiver.

I kiss Peeta, wave goodbye to Robin and Ana and we dart out the door towards the closest gate to The Village. We sit at our spot for a long time, talking but we still get in a lot of hunting. With a wild turkey, several rabbits and some badgers in our game bags it has been a good day with plenty of easy pickings, but deep down inside, something feels very off. Maybe it's just because I know I'll have to say goodbye to Gale again, today.

We fill the remaining space in our bags with roots and edible plants—we even spend a short time digging up katniss tubers from the ponds.

Wandering slowly home, we chew on some greens we found and chat about the progress Robin and Gloriana made this morning. Gale is smug, a little irritating, actually, but I ignore it, wanting to avoid another argument.

As we reach the square in the main district, a curl of smoke in the distance catches my attention. I nudge Gale and he glances at it.

'Someone's made a fire,' he muses. My mind wanders to Peeta, perhaps he's burning rubbish.

But no rubbish pile I've ever seen makes that amount of smoke. As we round the corner, it becomes clear that the smoke is furling from one of the houses in The Village. My heart stops for a fraction of a second and a scream escapes my lips.

'_NO!'_

I drop my game bag and I'm off and running up the kilometre stretch to my house before Gale has even recovered from the shock of seeing the fire. The flames curl up before my eyes and even from this distance I can see it's out of control, raging, blazing and devouring my house. Gale shouts something after me but I don't catch it, too concerned with forcing myself faster and faster towards my home, and my family.

After a few seconds he's caught up and is overtaking me. I glance over my shoulder when I hear other people shouting. Many people from the town are shouting and pointing, calling for someone to get help but I can't afford to stop. A burst of adrenaline pushes me forward and soon I'm running alongside Gale. He screeches to a halt outside the gates to The Village but I hurdle them and keep running.

_Someone's made a fire, _Gale said. Too right. I'm about to charge into the house when strong arms grasp me around my upper body and drag me backwards.

'Get off!' I scream. Whoever is holding me doesn't relinquish their grip. I claw at the hands and bite their arm viciously. I hear Haymitch yelp and he releases me but before I've taken more than a few steps, Gale is lifting me off the ground and throwing me over his shoulder.

I scream more and tear at his back.

'Put me down! Peeta's in there!' I screech and my hands rip a huge shred of fabric from his jacket. Gale ignores me so I turn my face towards the house and attempt to pull myself back towards it. 'PEETA!' I shriek at full volume. I repeat this over and over until Gale puts me down by the gate. I dart around him and start running again. This time I make it to the steps before Haymitch and Gale throw themselves on top of me, pinning me to the floor.

I instantly begin to claw at their faces, their necks—any exposed skin I can find. I don't understand why they won't help him. Gloriana and Robin are in there, too! There may be no love lost between Gale and Peeta but I've got to believe he wouldn't just let him or my children die. I was so sure Gale actually loved Ana and Robin.

Crowds of people from the town had arrived and there are shocked exclamations as they spot me pinned and screaming on the ground. The smoke catches my throat and I start coughing harshly, feeling like my lungs are trying to force their way out of my mouth. Tears that had nothing to do with the thick haze begin to roll down my face and crash to the ground.

'Katniss! Please stop! It's too dangerous to go in there. You'll only be killing yourself,' Gale pleads. It's odd. I've never heard him beg before. I don't stop fighting them though; it would take a lot more than that to stop me from trying to save the most important things in the world to me.

I slump below their bodies, hoping they'll think I've seen sense. They fall for it. Haymitch eases up and tends to his bleeding arm but Gale drags me to my feet and hauls me away from the burning house. He keeps his arms around my waist, holding tightly.

I allow him to think he's winning but after a few more seconds I blast through his arms, completely taking him by surprise, and hurtle up the porch steps. I kick the front door open and reel back as smoke pours out and blinds me. I cough violently and all the memories of the Hunger Games fireball trap coming spinning back to me.

This is nothing new. I've had many nightmares concerning fire—ironic because I'm supposed to be the girl on fire. It's funny that the thing that possibly saved my life could very well have been the end of it. How fitting. I try to blink the tears out of my eyes and attempt to get through the door but once again, I find myself trapped by Gale. Does he never give up?

'You promised you'd never leave me, Peeta!' I scream into the flames.

'Stop it, Katniss!' he yells into my ear and yanks me up into his arms before sprinting away from the house.

'You promised!' I yell at the house, half-eaten away by the ravenous flames. I pound my fists on Gale's chest and tears stream from my eyes but he doesn't stop running. This time he doesn't put me down and I'm glad that he stays inside The Village because I couldn't bear to leave while the fire rages and Peeta, and Robin, and Gloriana are in danger.

A team of law enforcement officers run past us to subdue the now riotous crowds. They are followed quickly by the districts only fire marshals. There are only five of them. There's no chance they'll be able to stop the blaze before Peeta, Gloriana and Robin are dead.

I try to scream again but my voice has become croaky and the smoke seems to be cutting off my words before they are even formed. I collapse against Gale's chest, finally defeated. The fire marshals are battling the flames and I watch their outlines, my vision blurred by the salt water in my eyes.

Every time I see someone emerge from the building my heart jumps and splutters, but it's not him. It's never him. I think I see Gloriana and Robin weaving through the crowd but then I realise that it's just a shadow, another little boy or girl, and crushing disappointment and grief overcomes me. My body begins to convulse as I am wracked by sobs though I have no tears left to cry.

The warmth from the flames touches every part of my skin but it's unwelcome and no matter how much I scratch, it doesn't go away. Gale grabs my fingers to stop me from scraping away at my skin. I shy into his chest, trying to escape the heat, the pain. He holds me tight to him and suddenly the world drops, but I quickly realise Gale has fallen to his knees. He cradles me close and I'm confused when water drops onto my face.

It can't be raining. It's too hot for that. I look up to see tears dribbling silently down Gale's face while he determinedly tries to rub them away. I look away, back to the inferno where I know Peeta is dying. The fire licks up the sides of my house, leaps from the windows and unfurls through the gaping snarl where the roof used to be.

The smoke creates an impenetrable force field around the charred ruins that was once a spectacular house.

After what seems like an age, the fire is quelled and people begin to converge on Gale and I. They pat our shoulders, stroke our cheeks, brush ash from our hair and whisper their apologies, as though that could make me feel better. No one tells me what I want to hear.

Are they alive?

No one tells me because they all assume the worst. How can they be so ready to accept defeat? I've seen Peeta struggle through so much when the odds were not in his favour. I know he can make it through this.

There is a final crash as one wall collapses in on itself, leaving the house with an evil grin. I jump to my feet. If he's alive, he's in there.

I make to start forward but once again I'm stopped. But this time it's not by Haymitch or Gale. It's by a sound. A sound that seems grotesquely out of place.

A laugh. Someone is laughing. Fury clouds my judgement and I rip an arrow from my quiver and shove it into my bow that has been jabbing into the crook of my arm this whole time but I'd barely noticed it.

I turn, about to release the arrow, my face a mask of hatred, when I realise I don't know who laughed. It was a solitary, musical laugh. Something ethereal but beautiful. It sounded very like crystal tinkling as it smashes on the floor.

It is the single most evil sound I've ever heard.

My bow roves over the crowd of onlookers, all of whom look absolutely terrified and stare around for the offending voice. The smoke is still terrifyingly thick and yet I can just make out a dim silhouette walking swiftly towards me. It is distinctly feminine—tall and slender with long hair that fans out behind her. It reminds me of Glor—I stop myself before I can finish the thought; it's too painful.

The figure becomes clearer the closer it gets. Somehow I _know_ that this is the person who laughed. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I tense my bow, ready to let the arrow fly and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder why no one has tried to stop me yet.

Behind the figure, emerges a long line of hulking shadows, unfolding as graceful as a fan. Just as I have all but decided to let my arrow go, the figure comes into view and the weapon slips between my fingers, clattering to the ground, where it comes to rest, the arrow rolling free.

The first thing I think of when I see the woman's face is Coriolanus Snow.

I quickly wipe this thought from my mind and stare as the girl approaches. She's much more classically beautiful than Snow. Her long, arching eyebrows are an exact match for her jet black hair and her pale skin contrasts directly with the dark make-up that rings her eyes. Her eyes themselves are so disconcertingly blue I can barely look away. I snatch up my bow and arrow again, aiming directly at this newcomer's heart.

'Stop,' I command, my voice so powerful and authoritative that I surprise even myself. Much to my amazement, she does stop. The line of people behind her, all dressed in matching deep purple velvet halt almost instantaneously.

Just as I knew this was the person who laughed, I know it is also the person who started the fire and she is the reason my entire family is dead. A guttural, half scream bursts between my lips as I let fly the arrow, a deadly shot to the heart. But, before it reaches the girl, a man swathed in velvet has stepped in front of her and taken the blow. It buries itself deep in his shoulder and he staggers backwards, disrupting the perfect line of his comrades.

'Oh, Katniss. I thought you'd have had more sense than this,' the woman says, her voice like wind chimes. I tense and glare at her.

'Who are you?' I shout, distress cracking my voice. I suddenly realise how very alone I am, standing in the centre of the open area in front of the houses in The Village with no one at my side. Except Gale. He still sits on the floor by my feet and as soon as my eye falls on him, he leaps up and stands at my shoulder, his own bow and arrow drawn.

'My name is Locklyn,' she drawls, her high, cold voice piercing my brain like shards of glass.

'You did this,' I say, my own voice barely above a whisper. She laughs that laugh again and I almost shoot her on the spot.

'Yes. I did this,' Locklyn says, her beautiful features twisting up into an evil smile. My breath catches in my throat. 'I owe you some pain. The same pain you gave me.' For a minute I stand stock still, my confusion clear on my face. 'You don't know what I'm talking about?' she asks slowly as though talking to a child. I don't answer. She smirks.

'My father. It's down to you he's dead.' Slowly, it dawns on me. This girl looks like Snow because he was her father. She nods slowly until she's satisfied I get it. 'This is just the beginning for you, Katniss Everdeen,' she calls.

She drops me a caustic half-bow, her cruel eyes glaring into mine, turns and stalks away, her personal guard following silently.

'It's Mellark,' I say in my cracked voice. When the girl called Locklyn is out of sight in the smoke, my bow clatters to the ground and I watch in helpless horror as the stone pavement rushes up to meet me just before I black out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, it took me a long time to update this. I'm not sure if anyone is waiting for an update but I'll do it anyway. Thank you to BriaraElanor for the lovely review and help! Not sure what to say about this chapter so I'll shut up and let you get on with it! Reviews are such a help, so please leave one!**

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Chapter 6

When I next open my eyes my mind is foggy, like there is a shimmering mist before me.

I can hear voices. Loud voices. I can't quite work out what they're saying—everything is fuzzy. I struggle to calculate who the voices belong to. The first, deep and rough: it seems to be trying to calm another voice—almost as deep and almost as rough. It takes a minute to differentiate between them. A woman's voice joins in, very high pitched and whiny.

I cover my ears but the shouting gets louder, so I pull the thin cover over my head and then pause to wonder where I am.

I've been in enough hospitals in my life to know what I'm looking at. Only now am I noticing the morphling drip attached to my arm. I give it an irritable tug, hoping it would move with me. It doesn't. I remain on my back, trying to block out the shouting. Who shouts in a hospital? _There must be some kind of emergency_, I conclude. More voices add to the din and I jerk the morphling drip again, eager for sleep to take me.

Like a flare in the night, my memories burst back to life in front of my eyes and, as the pain thumps me like a punch in the gut, I sit bolt upright, agonisingly alert. Well, as alert as one can be when they can't quite hear, move or think properly. Clearly I've had some kind of sedative that hasn't worn off yet. I rip the morphling drip from my arm and stagger to the door, blood dripping freely from the tear in my flesh where the needle used to be.

My fingers fumble uselessly for a handle but there is nothing to be seen but smooth metal. Despair crushes me as I slide down the wall next to the door, my knees giving out under me. I have to find someone and organise for Peeta's body to be buried somewhere nice. He'd want that. Maybe we could have a family gravestone for Robin and Gloriana too.

Haymitch must be around here somewhere. He wouldn't leave me after what just happened. My head throbs slightly when I put my hands to my forehead. I feel for the area that hurts and locate a heavy bandage encrusted in dried blood. What happened to me?

Then I remember falling forward and being unable to stop myself hitting the ground. I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. There are no words to describe the crushing pain and guilt that courses through my body. If I hadn't gone hunting with Gale—how many days ago? What is today's date? Where am I? It doesn't take long to realise that I'm too tired to care where I am, or when, for that matter. But it's not fatigue. It's deeper than that. It runs into my bones.

I'm really beginning to get annoyed with the shouting people. I'm trying to have a breakdown. My fingers drum the floor beside me as I consider my options. How do I escape a room with no visible way out? Just as I'm considering hitting the door with the stand holding my morphling, a hissing noise begins and the door slides open. I freeze. The shouting people are entering my room.

I rub my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision, which is _still_ blurry. They haven't even seen me sitting here beside the door. The first person to enter my room is wearing a white dress that reaches to his ankles. _His _ankles_? _Just as I'm trying to figure out this odd piece of information a voice breaks through my cloudy hearing.

'Where is she?' the voice shouts. I stand up immediately and the half a dozen or so people turn to face me in shock.

It's Peeta. My mouth hangs open and I just stare at him. All the rage on his face drains completely to be replaced with wonder and a completely inescapable happiness. He's running towards me and scoops me up in his arms, spinning me round and round. I just hang limply in his arms, too shocked to even return his hug.

He's kissing me, all over my face, neck and shoulders as though he can't believe I'm here. As though _he_ can't believe it? I can't force my brain to accept he's _alive_. I hear someone mutter something about shock. Peeta stops kissing me when he realises I haven't moved.

'Katniss?' he asks worriedly.

I blink up at him. My vision may still be blurry but there's something about his face that's different. There are small pink burns across his left cheek. They're all down his arm, too. 'Peeta?' I whisper.

He nods and tears spill from his eyes and before I know it, I'm crying and we're kissing, forgetting about everyone else in the room.

'I can't believe you're here! I thought you were dead!' I cry into his neck, my arms around him, holding him as close to me as I can. His arms crush my waist but I don't care—it's too good to be near him to even consider such a minor thing.

'I promised I'd never leave you,' he whispers into my hair.

A fresh wave of tears burst from my eyes and now he has me gathered up in his arms and he's placing me on my bed. I try to gulp down as much air as possible and stem the flow from my eyes but I just end up with pitiful hiccups. Peeta laughs, his tears still glistening on his cheeks.

I reach up and kiss the droplets so they vanish. He leans his forehead against mine as I notice we have the room to ourselves.

'I thought you were dead,' I repeat, more for my own benefit than his.

'I thought I was dead, too,' he replies. 'They've done a great job fixing me up. I think you need a new bandage though.' He crosses to a cabinet and searches through it until he comes across a long roll of gauze. He unwinds my bloody bandage and gently applies a fresh one.

I watch him incredulously as he works. I watch his long, tangled, blonde eyelashes flutter, his beautiful eyes crinkle in concentration and his soft mouth turns up at the corners when he notices I'm still studying him. I slowly raise my hand and brush his cheek. Then I run my fingers across his eyelids and eyebrows then into his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

'Checking I'm real?' he asks, laughter in his voice. I stare into his eyes, my fingers still entwined in his soft hair. I nod slightly and my lips move to his again. I can't stop myself gliding my hands down his face, along his chin and down his neck to his chest where they remain.

I watch as his eyes take me in too and he strokes my face gently, not in the assessing way I did, but more to reassure me.

My heart is beating too fast and I can't bring myself to look away from his face, afraid that if I do I'll lose him again. He seems to sense this and places his hand in mine and I know instinctively that no matter what happens, we won't be letting go any time soon. The hissing noise comes again and the door slides open to reveal a nurse and two doctors.

I listen to their strange accents and I glance at Peeta. Are we in the Capitol?

Peeta speaks first.

'Where is the man that was here earlier?' he asks politely. The doctors ignore him but the woman turns towards us and smiles slightly at the sight of us sitting together. One of the doctors hurries to my side and shines a light in my eyes. I blink and he clicks it off before unwinding my new bandage and cleaning the wound with some foul smelling liquid.

'He's waiting along the corridor, I thought you two might want some alone time,' she says, obviously thinking she's being generous. Peeta and I would have behaved the same way had there been other people around or not.

'Can we see him?' Peeta asks. The woman inclines her head.

'I'll get him for you,' she says and leaves the room. The male doctors are much less friendly. They check Peeta's burns and assure him that after a month or so, no one will even see the scars. However, he is ordered to two weeks of bed rest in the hospital which he glumly agrees too.

They tell me that I can leave at the end of the week and just as they are parting, Haymitch sticks his head in the door.

'Well, sweetheart, you certainly gave us all a fright there,' he says. I grin at him sheepishly.

'Don't worry, Haymitch, I'm fine too,' Peeta says, rolling his eyes.

'One broken and three cracked ribs seems like you got off pretty lightly,' Haymitch says seriously. I look at Peeta, surprised and suddenly scared I'd hurt him during our reunion.

'You hurt your ribs?' I ask. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He shakes his head.

'And ruin that moment we were having? I don't care about the ribs, I just wanted you closer than you were. I probably have another bruised rib from hugging you but I couldn't possibly care any less.' He pulls me close again. Haymitch moves further into the room and claps Peeta's shoulder.

'You two get into more trouble than anyone else I've ever met,' he says. We smile simultaneously and I squeeze Peeta's hand.

'So, where are Gloriana and Robin?' Peeta asks Haymitch. He shifts his weight uncomfortably and my heart begins to race.

'Haymitch?' I ask. My nerves make my voice shake. My palms start to sweat and I feel Peeta's hand tighten to a vice-like grip on mine.

'They … uh—I shouldn't be the one to tell you this,' Haymitch says uneasily.

I don't say anything but my stomach drops through the floor. My happiness from having Peeta back drains immediately. I had assumed Gloriana and Robin were okay as well.

As it turns out, you should never assume anything without knowing all the details.

'They're dead,' I say bluntly and finality rings in my word that's completely irrevocable. Peeta's hand goes slack and I find my body caving in again, the way it did outside the burning house.

Suddenly the sadness goes out of me, and all I have left is raw, undiluted anger. I'm outraged at Locklyn Snow and her hideously brutal way of provoking me. She's angry that I—that I what? Killed her father?

I did not kill Snow. I guess, indirectly, I was responsible for the death he had. He may have died slightly prematurely—probably stress. No one's sure exactly how exactly he passed away.

Right now, the most pressing matter is the white fury I feel at having my world wrenched apart by Locklyn's vengeance for a crime I did not commit.

'She'll pay.'

Haymitch looks at me and sighs. 'The girl on fire's back then. Good, I thought we'd lost you for a while at the beginning there,' he says, pride threatening to break through his words. I push all my grief down, into a drawer at the back of my mind. I can see Peeta is not handling it as well as I am. I put my arm around his shoulders and help him to his feet. After all these years of Peeta being my shoulder to cry on, the tables have turned and now he's leaning on me.

'Where are you two going?' Haymitch asks, nonplussed.

'I'm going out to find out as much information about this Locklyn Snow as I can,' I say, 'and he's coming with me. I'm not leaving him. Ever again.'

I make it to the door before the dizziness overcomes me. I'm okay on my own but with Peeta's extra weight upon my shoulders; my head wound begins to bleed again. I start to fall but then Haymitch is there, his arms around me and Peeta, pulling us back to the bed.

'You are both staying in this hospital until you're better. I'll find out who this girl is. I have more contacts and useful resources than you,' he says snippily. He pushes me down onto the bed when I try to stand again. 'Sit,' he instructs. 'I'll send in your next visitors.' I watch him leave but then turn my attention back to Peeta.

'Peeta?' I ask, tentatively rubbing some heat into his fingers. He looks into my eyes and the previous happiness that was there, like mine, is completely shattered.

'What are we going to do?' he asks me quietly. I shake my head. I have an idea but I don't think he's ready to hear it. Peeta is a much better person than I am and I highly doubt he'll take too kindly to my plan to assassinate Locklyn Snow.

I put my arms around his neck and hold on until the door slides open again and we break apart. I turn to see Gale and another doctor come in. It takes a minute to register who this medic is. My mother. She runs straight to me and enfolds me in her arms.

Gale waits patiently until she's done. She steps back, tears pouring down her face.

'Oh, Katniss, when they called to say you were in hospital I had to do everything I could to get you and Peeta to the Capitol where you could be looked after properly. I'm just glad I pull a bit of weight here otherwise Peeta would have been completely disfigured for the rest of his life and he probably would have lost the use of his left eye and arm...' she says hurriedly fluttering her hands around me, vainly searching for something to do to help. It makes me more depressed to hear about Peeta's predicament before the Capitol surgeons helped him, but I know my mother is just trying to help.

Gale steps forward and smiles at me tentatively. I smile back and look over my shoulder at Peeta who nods and releases my hand. I know he's giving me permission to love Gale too, but I have to show restraint. Peeta will break if he loses anymore or takes the slightest emotional hit.

I surge forward and place my arms around Gale's neck, and he leans his head against mine.

'I'm so sorry, Katniss,' he murmurs. 'I should've done more for you. Went into the house and got them out or something….' He trails off, waving a hand in the air vaguely. I shake my head and rub my index finger under his eye which seems to be sparkling with those unwelcome tears he seems to get quite often now. I step back to Peeta's side but I look at him sadly, reassuring him I'm not going anywhere.

'I'm so sorry about Gloriana and Robin,' my mother whispers, a hand over her eyes as though she can't bear to look at me. Or maybe she can't bear for me to see her.

Peeta seems to have recovered a bit. He stands next to me but I can feel him radiating grief even through his attempts to be strong. His expression mimics my own.

We are hard now. We've lost too much to be unable to take everything that's thrown at us.

Right now, we have an impending threat on our radar once again and we will have to find a way to deal with it. As we seem to agree on this telepathically our nurse from earlier enters and ushers Gale and my mother out, telling them we need rest. Gale hugs me and offers his hand to Peeta who shakes it without the slightest flicker of emotion and my mother hugs us both and blows us a kiss on the way out. The nurse wheels in another bed, exactly like the one I am using.

'I thought you'd want to be together. Some of the other staff aren't too happy: it's against protocol but I think circumstances would allow for a little change here. I mean, you are the Mockingjay after all,' she tells me and clasps my cold hand in hers for just a second and then she's gone.

Peeta and I ignore the second bed and curl up on mine, just the way we always have but neither of us sleeps. We don't know what time it is but it doesn't seem as though we'll be doing much else other than lie here for a while.

Thoughts whizz around my head at one hundred miles per hour and I can feel Peeta shift occasionally at my back. Eventually, I roll over to face him and find his eyes are wide and staring. I close my eyes and kiss his lips. He kisses me back softly and we can feel each other's grief. I don't allow myself the luxury of tears—I've resolved to be strong for Peeta but watching him now makes that resolve waver. These are not our usual, happy kisses but something much more intense that creates a bond that joins our chests together like a bright light—only less tangible. We can't see it but we know it's there, stronger than ever before.

It will catch up to us eventually though. I am sure of it. While we lie together my eyes trace his face, memorising every plane and angle it has. I'm so afraid I'll lose him again that I can't take my eyes off him. He seems to feel the same and his fingers gently caress my face and neck. The artificial lighting in the room gives absolutely no sign of the time of day or night so we just lie there and stare at each other until the door slides open and a new nurse enters carrying a breakfast tray. We don't move or acknowledge his presence. He places the tray on the other bed and leaves without saying anything to us.

This doesn't bother us. We make no move for the rest of the day apart from to share one of the rolls they have provided. I think that this is our own private way of saying goodbye to our children.

When Haymitch appears many hours later we finally look away from the other's face but we don't release our grip on each other's hand.

'So I found out a few things but there's hardly any information on her at all, I think we'll need to take a trip to District Thirteen and raid their database. Who knows, maybe they'll want to help?' he tells us. He pulls a plastic chair over to our bedside and sits heavily.

'OK, she's the same age as you two, her mother died of pneumonia and she was born out of wedlock,' he pauses for effect but Peeta and I just blink at him. 'Well, here's the exciting part, her mother had her while Snow was married to another woman, which explains why there's no records of her. I had to find everything out by word of mouth and a lot of cash changed hands,' he adds, which I'm sure is for our benefit to show how much he's doing for us. 'Turns out that Locklyn's mother wasn't even from Panem which put Snow in a difficult position because it was his law that said you couldn't marry or have children with outsiders. His hands were tied, so to speak.' Haymitch concludes. Peeta nods slowly.

'So, what you're saying is Locklyn was born to a woman form another country and was raised in secret?' he asks slowly. Haymitch nods.

'And now she has a chip in her shoulder about who killed her father,' I conclude. We all know Snow wasn't murdered but we're not sure how he died. For a moment we consider this and then Haymitch remembers something else.

'The other night, I was out drinking and I heard some people talking about those murders in Two. They said they thought it was Snow's kid and his wife and their daughter. Remember the grand-daughter that Coin wanted to put in the Games? Alva? I think she was the thirteen year old kid Gale mentioned. They had to go into hiding after Snow died because it would be too dangerous for them. I think they were killed because they were related to Snow,' he says thoughtfully.

It makes a sick kind of sense. Locklyn kills her half-brother because she wants to take power and she knows if the order collapses she'll come into power rather than the only legitimate child. The people are far more likely to relate to a family member of the old ruler than a newcomer.

'I wonder who killed them though,' Peeta is musing when I re-join the conversation. I frown. Haven't we just worked this out?

'Locklyn killed them.' How had they not put two and two together? Peeta shakes his head.

'It doesn't make sense. Why is she out avenging a father she never knew but she killed her half-brother for nothing? It doesn't fit.' I frown but I see he's right. One act is of compassion, the other of cruelty. They don't align.

'We'll figure it out,' Haymitch says and begins to stand. Oh, and will you two please get some rest. You both look horrible. I know you're always having these intense moments where you do nothing but stare at each other but you're supposed to be recovering. Especially you Peeta.' And with that he goes, leaving behind just the faint smell of white liquor. I flush.

When Haymitch puts it like that it sounds as if Peeta and I just sit around looking at each other—he makes it sound stupid but in reality it is one of the few things that keeps me going in hard times, knowing Peeta's always there to protect me.

Peeta just takes me by the waist and pulls me to him.

'I'm glad you're here, Katniss. I couldn't do this without you,' he tells me.

'I'm glad you're here too. I can't lose you again,' I say, desperation shining in my voice.

'You won't,' he says fiercely. This reassures me. The hard look in his eyes is back—his gaze is soft for me but hard for those looking to harm me. I want to add Gloriana and Robin to the list but then flames flicker in my head and I shudder. Peeta takes me in his arms and leads me back to bed.

The next week passes uneventfully—occasionally Haymitch would pop by to deliver another useful titbit he's picked up and my mother even appears a few times bringing us cakes and fruits.

By the time I'm ready to leave the hospital, Peeta still needs another week so I spend it by his bedside, sleeping in the plastic chairs and always waking, startled by dreams of fire and child-sized coffins.

Once the week has passed, Peeta is allowed to leave so we head out into the Capitol, not knowing what we could expect from the next few months. Just as we walk from the doors of the hospital a black car pulls up in front of us and Haymitch rolls down the window.

'Get in,' he orders, so we quickly climb in and the car moves smoothly away from the pavement. I watch the crowds melt past the windows, looking just as absurd as the last time I was here.

We finally reach the edge of the city and the car takes us down a side road which leads to a hovercraft launch bay. The only hovercraft to be seen has an enormous _District Thirteen_ stamp printed on the sides. A ladder falls to the ground as we approach but unlike the Hunger Games' hovercrafts, this one does not freeze you to the ladder so we cling on as it reels us inside.

When we are all safely in and the ship is moving we settle into soft leather seats and are offered a meal. They bring us a plate of turkey with roast potatoes and miniature carrots and a small tureen of gravy with mugs of steaming hot chocolate each.

Having had nothing but hospital food for the last few days, Peeta and I dig right in. Once we're finished, attendants take our plates away and provide us with coffee that I avoid. Peeta sips politely but I can't touch the stuff. Haymitch asks for something to drink but is informed that District 13 still does not allow alcohol inside. I try to supress a smile when he sighs petulantly and drops back onto his seat.

The ride is mostly quiet for the first few hours and Peeta and I get some sleep, leaning against each other, despite that the naps never last longer than an hour—we are always woken by our similar nightmares.

When we arrive in 13, Peeta and I take hands again. For the last few weeks we have always been touching in one way or another. We climb onto the ladder and Peeta holds me tightly to his side until the ladder touches the ground and then he helps me to climb down. We are greeted by two army officers and they march Peeta, Haymitch and I down into another car which carries us through the birth of the first District 13 above ground city in almost a century.

The buildings are small but surprisingly well built. The car stops outside a low grey building with moss growing in the cracks and crevices. I recognise this as the entrance to the underground section of 13. The section we'd seen the last time we were here.

'They know we're coming then?' I ask Haymitch. He nods but is straining with the lack of alcohol and is clearly struggling to keep his temper under control. I know how he feels.

It seems as though the first thing someone says to me that is even in the slightest way wrong will cause me to snap. I wonder vaguely who runs District Thirteen now in an attempt to keep my mind off those things.

We are bundled into a lift and it drops like a rock. My stomach plummets with it and I feel my head begin to spin. I don't think I should be taking many of these elevator rides with my head like this. Peeta puts his arm around my shoulder until the lift finally stops. We step out into the grey corridor and are instantly greeted on all sides by military personnel. I'm awestruck as people salute Peeta and me as we pass. They stop to make way for us, their hands by their brows. I don't know how to return any of this until Peeta salutes back and they all go back to what they were doing.

From then on, I return the gesture solemnly. We are led to Command where, at the head of the table sits President Paylor. I see things in District 13 haven't changed much at all. Everyone still wears the uniform grey and the purple ink itinerary on the inside of their forearms.

The last time I was here, Gale and I were required to wear these once District 12 had been destroyed and 13 was supposed to be our new home. Paylor stands and offers us her hand. We shake it and we're directed into seats around the table where we're quickly joined by Plutarch Heavensbee, Fulvia Cardew, his assistant, and more official looking officers. A few soldiers line the walls in sober silence.

I glance around. It' clear District 13 aren't dropping their defences. More becomes clear to me as Paylor speaks.

'Welcome back to 13. I know this is a hard time for you both so I'll get right to the point.' Though Paylor is not as cold as Coin was, she is still sharp and a little abrupt. 'Once again, we find ourselves under threat by a member of the Snow family,' she says seriously. 'Not only does she pose an enormous risk to us, she poses the same hazard to the rest of Panem. For a few months now, the Special Forces teams in Two, Four, Eight and Eleven have been working alongside us to bring her down. You all know I'm talking about Locklyn Snow, of course.

Apparently, her father left her all of his money which has allowed her to create a highly skilled, highly dangerous task force of mercenaries. Her weapons arsenal is enormous alongside her detail of hovercraft and bomber planes. She is a code red threat. We have so far been unable to infiltrate her groups but we're working on it as we speak.

'I know how difficult this is for you,' she directs at us again, 'but we need you both and Gale Hawthorne with our cause. We can protect you. We know you have no home, and you need protection. We know your children are dead because of her,' I wince but she carries on as though nothing has happened, 'and we know that you seek revenge.' At this she looks at Haymitch who refuses to meet her eyes.

Peeta and I sit for a moment taking in all that Paylor has told us. It is pretty plain that our basic knowledge of Locklyn Snow doesn't extend to cover this kind of thing. Paylor's deputy clears his throat and we look at him.

'There have also been murmurings of an attack on the hospital that your mother works in,' he tells us, his voice deep and gravelly, 'we are having her evacuated right now.' It doesn't take me long to piece together the view that they'll do anything in their power to get me on their side.

'We need our Mockingjay,' Plutarch says cheerily. I frown at him. I'm not the Mockingjay anymore. I can't be. I'm defeated. But before I can say this, Peeta has answered for me.

'We'll do it,' he says firmly. Paylor smiles and Plutarch actually claps his hands together, a huge grin spreading across his face—Plutarch remains unperturbed in any situation no matter how dangerous or life-threatening it may be. I whip my head around to face Peeta but he doesn't look at me.

I'm shocked he's made this decision for both of us without even conferring with me. I'm shocked he's made this decision for _Gale. _

However, my worry at the latter is futile because at that moment the door slides open and there Gale is. He wears the same grey clothing as all the other soldiers and has a comunicuff around his wrist. He's already made the decision.

I wonder how long he's been here for. I vaguely recall his absence in the hospital after his first visit.

'So, we'll have another meeting tomorrow,' Paylor informs us, gathering up loose pieces of paper and bundling them together. 'Today was just to get you on board … but we all assumed you'd need more convincing. I know how much you lost during the last war.' With that, she bustles out of the room, her deputy and a few soldiers hurrying after her.

Gale smiles at us.

'I'm kind of excited to be back,' he tells us. I glower at him. I'm not. Although I know we need to take care of Locklyn Snow before things become any worse, I don't want to be involved with District 13 again.

At least there's no Coin. Alma Coin had ordered the parachute drop that killed my sister. So I killed her. That simple thought—it strikes me how at ease I am with murder. That's another thing about 13 that puts me off. Despite the acceptance of the Hunger Games by the Capitol in the past, District 13 promotes killing by children as well.

At the age of fourteen children are introduced into army ranks as a soldier. It disgusts me.

Once everyone but Gale has left Command I turn on Peeta.

'What were you thinking?' I ask angrily. 'You didn't even wait to see if this is what I want!'

'Is it what you want?' he asks. I pause. No, it's not what I want. But, what I want is to kill Snow. If it takes the military assistance of 13 then that's what I need to do. For a few seconds I consider my options. Damn it.

'Fine, we'll stay! But we kill Locklyn how and when I say.' Peeta nods and turns away. This hurts but I'm not sure why. I half hold out my hand for him to take, but I don't think he sees it so I drop it back to my side.

Gale beckons us to follow him. Moving through the corridors is a surreal experience. It feels a lot like being back in the rebellion.

This time, however, people stop continually to pay their respects to us and surprisingly, Gale too. I look at him quizzically and he smiles.

'You know that job I have in District Two?' he asks, casually. 'Well, it's with a Special Forces division, top secret stuff. I couldn't even tell you, but you've no idea how much I wanted to. Mostly everyone in District Thirteen knows all about it. I guess I can tell you now because we're all involved. Even if you don't want to be,' he adds seeing my face. It's not like I don't want to kill Locklyn. I do. It's just that I wanted to do it my way. Without the interference of government.

No wonder they recruited Gale. When he was last here, he was the best soldier 13 had so naturally, a place was offered to him. He leads us to cabin number 367 and opened the door for us. It was almost identical to the one I shared with my mother and Prim last time we were here, except there is a small double bed, low to the ground, instead of bunk beds.

I go to the bedside table and open the top drawer. It's empty. Unsure what else I expected, I sink onto the hard mattress, knowing the next few months will be practically unbearable.

I think of Finnick Odair, dead after being savaged by the Capitol's mutts. I think of Boggs, my patrol's leader who'd been blown apart by a bomb hidden in the Capitol's roads. I think of the Messala, the co-director of our propos during the rebellion and how he'd died. I think of the unnamed woman whom I'd shot in the chest when we'd entered her house from the underground tunnels. I think of the decimated ruins that were once my city, littered with bodies after the firebombs killed more than ninety per cent of the population.

All the losses that have hurt me the most are almost directly linked to me and my actions. I don't know how many people have died for me. _Don't be so selfish,_ I tell myself. People didn't die for _me._ They died for a cause they believe in. But the memory that hurts the most is Peeta's Capitol-induced hatred of me.

I can't reconcile the image of his perfect face twisted in hatred with the face that cried when he first seen me in the hospital. They are two different people. Peeta swoops forward and grabs my hands. I blink in surprise—I hadn't even noticed my fingers twisting together painfully until now.

'Katniss, you're scaring me. We can leave now if you want, I'd rather die than stay here with you unhappy,' he says, twisting his cold fingers into mine. I shake my head firmly.

Although we've been inside for so long, neither of us can seem to get warm. Even in the hospital, wound together and under a cover, we both felt ice cold. I sniff once and Peeta wraps me in his arms.

'Don't be afraid,' he whispers. I'm not scared. I don't know where he got that impression from but I don't bother to correct him. If at some point I need to get us out before Peeta realises I can probably use this to my advantage. I put my arms around his neck and swallow my guilt at this thought.

But I will protect him. He needs me. I need him, more importantly.

If we need to leave but he doesn't want to, I'll need something to use as leverage. Gale coughs slightly and we break apart. He tells us that we'll get our schedules tomorrow morning and we can take the rest of the day to ourselves.

'Just don't go above ground. We need to keep you safe,' he says to me and disappears down the corridor.

'We?' I say towards the door from which he left. I guess Gale's with them now. Then I have to remind myself that it's not how it was when Coin was in charge. These people are genuinely trying to help me. There is no "them". Just "us".

Then why don't I believe it?

I take a deep breath and go to the tiny adjoining bathroom. I take a shower until it is cut off and a warning flashes telling me I'm wasting water.

District 13 have prepared for these wars and they'll probably never stop being organised even if there are never any more. Then it hits me. That's exactly what this will be. Another war. Not as widespread as the last, I hope, but a war all the same. Perhaps more dangerous because Locklyn doesn't have the pressure of the whole country watching her every move as her father did.

I slide a stiff robe on when I step from the shower and return to our cabin. I jump when I hear a noise from my behind me and spin on my heel, but it's just Peeta. Of course it's Peeta. I'd completely forgotten about his being here—my mind is so full of worries and errant thoughts I can't focus on more than one thing at a time.

He's sitting at the tiny table, hunched over, his head in his hands. He's not handling it well at all. I try to make my feet move to him but I can't. I stand for a minute. I don't think he's heard me enter the room—I move much more quietly than he does. I don't want to go to him. I can't comfort him when I can't even comfort myself.

I consider slipping back into the bathroom but I've already had too many heartless thoughts today. I shift a chair and the noise startles him.

'Oh, you scared me,' he says, standing. I pretend not to notice the sparkle in his eyes that looks suspiciously like tears. I've seen more than my fair share of the strongest people in my life breaking down.

'Sorry,' I mumble. The exchange is awkward and I don't like it. I bite my lip and he runs his hand through his hair, mussing it.

Robin wanders into my mind. His wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes much the way Peeta's does now. I see too much of them in him. Gloriana in his eyes and Robin in his build, gait and hair. I can't look at Peeta anymore. I hurry out the door and into the corridor. My wet hair casts splashes on the stone floor and I run along the passageway, my bare feet slapping on the hard surface

I search for one of my many hiding places. The store cupboard is the object of my hunt now but it's been too long since I was here and everything is too uniformly grey. I meet no one while I run but I don't stop for a long time. I wind through the corridors making lightning fast decisions when it comes to a left or right option. I have no idea where I'm running to now, I'm pretty sure the store cupboard is several floors below me but I carry on, too scared to stop.

As I take a sharp right, I smack straight into a military jacket.

'Are you all right?' a voice asks, holding out a hand to help me up from the ground where I'd landed. I ignore the hand but jump to my feet, backing away quickly. It's a young soldier and realising who I am; he hurriedly salutes and begins to beg my forgiveness for knocking me over.

'Stop!' I cry, repelled by his grovelling. He's no more than sixteen years old.

'I'm sorry, Mrs Mellark,' he mumbles and rubs the back of his neck. I start. He's the first stranger to use my correct second name in a while. Everyone else has used the name Everdeen.

'Ugh, why is everyone treating me like this?' I groan. The soldier looks confused for a moment.

'Like what, ma'am?' He frowns confusedly. I wave my hand at him.

'Like this. All polite and respectful. Everyone practically ignored me last time,' I say exasperatedly.

'Oh.' I hear relief in his voice; he can answer this question. 'Everyone understands your role in bringing down the Capitol in the rebellion and equally your anticipated role in destroying Locklyn Snow and her agenda,' he says, his voice almost proud. I cock an eyebrow.

'Right. What does everyone expect me to do?' I ask levelly. He glances over his shoulder and shifts his weight.

'Well, I think it's generally thought that you'll take up the Mockingjay image again. I know that it's never really left you but they want propos and things again, like last time. President Paylor wants as many people to know about this and get behind the Mockingjay as possible. She hopes that other Districts' Secret Services will become involved. We need as much help as we can get. Hasn't she told you any of this?' he asks abruptly, obviously realising he's said too much without permission. I nod and start to leave before he can say anything more.

Paylor is using me. I don't know if I mind yet. I want Locklyn dead but I'm still unsure if I want help or not.

This time I don't run. I walk down the hallways wrapped in my own thoughts. It takes me a few seconds to register that someone is calling my name. I blink and look around but I can't see anyone so I just carry on walking, wondering if it's just in my head.

Another soldier rounds the corner ahead of me, so I turn on my heel and walk back the way I came, wanting to avoid another conversation like the one I had just had.

'Katniss!' the soldier shouts, but I just quicken my pace. 'Hey, stop!' The soldier's footsteps break into a run and I stagger forward as well, unsure why I'm being chased. I bolt around a corner and throw open a door.

It's a room filled with crates containing cleaning supplies. I hurl myself behind a metal cage of toilet paper and sit on the ground, panting. I hear the footsteps of the soldier reach the corner and hesitate, clearly deciding if I ran on to the next turn or went into the room.

The door clicks open and light falls in a shaft to my left.

'Katniss?' the soldier whispers softly. I roll my eyes, the voice belongs to Gale. I'd been too caught up to even realise that it was him calling my name. The door begins to close and I reach my hand out to touch the rapidly disappearing strip of light.

My skin is creamy ivory in the glow and I close my fist to catch the impossible. The light suddenly stops receding and long white fingers are wrapping around my wrist, pulling me to my feet.

'What do you think you're doing?' Gale asks, his voice thin and an octave higher than usual. I glance up at his face, shadowy with his back to the light. There's a line between his eyebrows which I use my fingers to smooth away. 'Why are you wearing nothing but a bath robe?' I look down at myself and then shrug. 'You infuriate me sometimes, Katniss,' Gale sighs and begins to tow me from the store room. I try to twist my wrist from his grasp but his hold is unbreakable. 'Quit, would you? I'm not letting you go,' he tells me.

After this, I let him drag me from the room and pull me along the corridor again, down two flights of stairs, along another corridor exactly identical to all the others and I begin to remember my way around.

'You don't have to babysit me, I wasn't trying to run or anything,' I say petulantly.

'Right, but I don't get how you think hiding in a closet will help you decide if you need Thirteen's help. It won't change anything.' Only Gale can possibly know this much about me without even asking a single question. He alone can see through my defences and walls, straight to the true problem.

_It won't change anything. _I know he means my children's fate but he's too worried for me to bring it up outright.

He leads me down another corridor which has a door guarded by four unsmiling soldiers. I quickly recognise this as the armoury. I pull the neck of my robe a little tighter and I'm suddenly very aware of my attire.

I can tell the guards are deliberately trying not to look at me too much but they ask Gale to hold out his schedule for the day. He does and when they look at me he waves them away, telling them I've only just arrived today and I don't have one.

The sickly purple ink glares at me from the inside of Gale's arm and we're ushered through the doors where we have our finger prints scanned. Once again I find myself wondering what the need for this huge amount of security is. As far as I know, no one has ever attempted a robbery of the District 13 armoury.

We have our retinas scanned and go through another door to a DNA scanner. Two more guards send us through a metal detector and then we are put through a second round of DNA testing. We are finally let into the armoury to see a very familiar figure hunched over a metal table strewn with electronic devices and hi tech tools.

'Beetee!' I say in surprise and he turns pushing his glasses up his nose.

'Katniss! It's nice to see you,' he says brightly. I can hear strain in his voice despite his cheerful demeanour. I go to his side and glance over his shoulder but I can't make a bit of sense from the jumble of wires and electronic equipment.

'What are you working on?' I ask. He rubs his head and pushes his hair away from his eyes.

'President Paylor wants a new range of weaponry that has integrated self-destruct measures. It's proving to be very difficult. Every time I think I get close, a problem arises with the explosives. It's very dangerous; too much movement and the whole thing will blow. I had a very close call last month. I spent a week in hospital after it,' he concludes. I frown.

I don't like the sound of the new weapons Paylor wants and I can't understand what the need for self-destructing weapons is anyway. Gale moves up to the table as well.

'Is there something here for Katniss?' he asks in a stage whisper. Beetee glances up at him in surprise but an instantly knowing look crosses his face.

'Yes, I think there's something.' He crosses to a glass fronted cabinet full of dangerous looking spears with flashing lights near the base. He reaches into the case, pushes a few aside and extracts a long golden bow. He turns and proudly holds it out to me.

'I designed it myself,' he tells me and slides it into my hands. It is extremely lightweight and excellently balanced with a taught string for shooting a long distance. He rolls a sheath of black arrows into my arms as well and I recognise the writing along the top. It's the same print as the flaming arrow I shot on Remembrance Day. I look up at Beetee and he's smiling slightly, sadness in his eyes. He lost people too; he understands. These arrows read; _MOCKINGJAY_ in golden writing below the midnight feathers. It's a little gaudy but as I understand it, that's exactly what Paylor wants. Attention for the cause.

'It's similar to your last Mockingjay bow in that it reacts to your voice and only your voice and you alone can control it, and I know your last one it was destroyed in the fire,' Beetee says, eyes trained on the ground. 'I've supplied you with the usual explosive arrows, flaming arrows, regular arrows and a few extras that I'm very proud of.'

I look down into the quiver and realise it's divided into several sections, the first three the ones Beetee described, and the other three, he explains to be electrically charged after being released from the bow, one has a rocket propeller on the back, allowing it to go much further and the final type sends a jet of poison out through the tip on contact in case the arrow doesn't kill the target. I whisper to the bow and it immediately starts to vibrate gently in my palm.

I grin at him and attach a normal arrow to the bow, pulling it back and sending it straight into the wall at the other side of the room. I can see that it's buried in the solid wall at least halfway up the shaft. My grin widens. Beetee smiles and turns back to his work. I remove the arrow from the wall and return it to my new sheath. Another thing I notice is my lack of knife. Since my stint in hospital I'd felt oddly naked without one but I don't ask for one. I don't feel like pushing Beetee's hospitality.

'Beetee's been working with District Thirteen for a few months now, developing new weapons,' Gale tells me.

'Why? This isn't like last time,' I tell them, but I'm not sure if I'm convincing Gale and Beetee, or myself. They exchange glances and I can't help but think I'm being left out of the loop.

Everything that everyone has told me leads to the conclusion that 13 is preparing for a war. Again.

'You should probably get back to your cabin now, dinner is at half past six and reflection has already begun,' Gale says quickly, glancing down at his schedule.

I make to leave but he stops me, holding his hand out for the bow and arrows. 'No weapons outside the armoury, Catnip.' I can tell he's trying to soften the command with my nickname but I hand over the bow, twist my arm from his and march out without returning his joke. Obviously, I wouldn't be allowed a knife, even I wanted one.

I hover outside my cabin door for a few moments, debating what I'll say to Peeta. In the hospital, our relationship had seemed fine. Perhaps that was only due to the solitude, the need for someone else to understand—the only interruptions we had were by the nurses and attendants bringing us food, water and clean clothes. Now, under the pressure of attention from all sides, our connection is strained and tense. There are plenty of people here who would understand what Peeta and I are going through. Many of the people here have lost their families too. But I can't lose Peeta.

Just the thought makes me shiver with fear, but I don't know how to bridge the gap between us at the loss of our children. _Maybe it's my fault. _Peeta could see me for what I truly am. A fake. I could have tried harder to save them. I'm sure if I'd begged Gale he would have let me go, or maybe even helped me. Gale loved Gloriana and Robin too.

Now, Peeta is on one side of the door and I am on the other. And for perhaps the first time, I don't want to see him. He knows I'm guilty of letting our children burn to death. That's why he won't look me in the eyes.

The sound of oncoming footsteps forces me to push the door open and step inside the cabin. But all my worrying has been for nothing. He's not even here. I push my damp hair away from my face and neck and throw myself into a chair.

I don't know if it's worse or better that Peeta isn't here but suddenly I feel small, distant and alone. I curl up like a cat on my chair and wish for his arms around me.

It's worse. Much worse.

At some point I must have fallen asleep because when I next open my eyes it's to find Gale dragging my arm over his shoulder and pulling me towards the bed. I let him take me. I don't think I have the strength to take myself. He pulls back the covers with one hand and gently lays me on the pillow. I close my eyes, allowing the darkness to overcome me again. I feel something warm and soft brush my brow but I'm too far gone to really take anything in.

My dreams are filled with long corridors and doors that don't open, children shrieking and fires crackling, explosions and gunfire, a beautiful bird call and an evil laugh. Once again, I wake, screaming and sweating to find the room in complete darkness. I blink a few times to get my bearings and notice a shadowy figure sitting at the table, head resting on arms.

I quietly move from the bed but I know that any attempts at silence now are futile—I've just screamed myself awake. However, the boy at the table _is_ asleep; his face furrowed into a frown, dark eyebrows mashed together, eyes moving around below his eyelids. Gale stayed with me. I crouch down next to him.

'Gale,' I whisper, shaking his arm. He mumbles something and his eyelids flicker open.

'Hey, what are you doing up?' he asks, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

'Bad dreams,' I say, turning away.

'Hmm, I know the feeling.'

'You don't have to stay here, you know. Go back to your cabin and get some proper rest, will you? You can't be comfortable there.' Gale squints at me through the darkness.

'I didn't want to leave you. That's the third or fourth time you've woken. In the beginning it was only for a few seconds and you just took a couple of deep breaths and went back to sleep.'

I frown but I don't remember waking up at any other point during the night. 'Where's Peeta?' I ask quietly but Gale just shrugs and cracks his fingers.

'I don't actually know. He should have been here for reflection and then he should have been at dinner but neither of you turned up so I came to have a look for you. I meant to look for Peeta too, but—' he pauses, '—I got a little side-tracked.'

I'm glad he can't see my blush in the gloom.

'Thanks,' I tell him, 'for getting me to bed and everything.' He smiles at me and stands up from the chair. 'You don't think Peeta's left, do you?' I ask, suddenly worried. Gale shakes his head.

'No way, he'd never have gotten above ground without passing several sets of guards who would definitely want to know where he's going, and several pass card scanners. We'd know if he attempted to leave.' He says this so confidently I am utterly reassured.

'Should we look for him? I thought everyone had to be inside their own cabins by ten o'clock,' I say adjusting my robe again.

'Since the rebellion some rules have been relaxed, certain people can move around at night-time—if you have the clearance. Peeta must have gotten confirmation from Paylor.'

I don't tell Gale but I do wonder why Peeta would want to be out at night anyway. Other than Gale, Beetee, myself, and maybe a few others, Peeta doesn't really know anyone here. I find myself yawning hugely and Gale takes me by the arm and leads me back to bed.

Once he has returned to his chair he settles himself back on his arms and closes his eyes. I lie watching him for a long time, unable to find sleep. I watch the steady rise and fall of his broad shoulders as he breathes, I watch his muscles ripple below his grey shirt as he shifts unconsciously and I watch the left side of his sleeping face move in and out of his dreams.

When I finally turn away from him I feel myself craving Peeta's arms. I wonder where he is and why he's left me alone. But I'm not alone. I have Gale's company. But it's Peeta that I want. And he isn't here.

So I fall back into a troubled sleep alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Alrighty, here is your chapter 7. As always, I own nothing except plot, all rights to Suzanne Collins. I really hope you like it, and please, please review! If there's anything you'd like to see in here as well let me know and I'll see if I can incorporate it. Any suggestions are always welcome! Thank you again for reading, lovelies. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 7

The next morning, Gale still sleeps at the table and there is no sign of Peeta. I throw a pillow at Gale to wake him and he jolts upright, just in time to snag it before it hits the floor. He grins and lobs it back, his reflexes ridiculously sharp.

The long red imprint on his cheek tells me that Gale hasn't moved from the table since I woke him last night. Unsure of the time and with only a tiny window along the top of a wall to let in daylight, I stand and check Gale's watch for myself. Five thirty in the morning. My body clock really is messed up.

'Why do you need to get up so early? The suns only just up,' Gale grumbles but I can tell he's still smiling. I shrug and wander into the tiny adjoining bathroom but then stick my head back out.

Gale raises his eyebrows expectantly.

'Don't leave,' I warn him.

'I won't,' he assures me and starts to straighten the sheets on my bed. I take a quick shower and locate the necessary grey clothes in a tiny cupboard at the back of the bathroom and braid my hair. Finally, I remove my pin from yesterday's outfit and attach it over my heart.

When I'm ready, I leave the bathroom and, just like he promised, Gale is sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at a loose thread.

'You'd better go take a shower,' I tell him. He nods and holds out his hand to me. I take it and we leave, finding comfort in the closeness. We don't see anyone all the way to Gale's cabin and I take my turn of waiting for him while he showers and dresses.

His cabin is much bigger than mine and slightly more luxurious—it has a sparse rug in the middle of the floor, a slightly larger window which can actually be opened a tiny bit, a cabinet with fake flowers on top and a pattern along the top of the wall. In District 13 this is considered the height of decadence but it's a bit frilly for Gale's taste.

When Gale returns to my side he sees me eyeing the flowers and he glowers at them with distaste.

'The painter and decorator should be fired, right?' he asks. I laugh and we head down to the canteen early for breakfast.

But first I need my schedule printed on my arm. It reads: _07:00 Breakfast, 07:30 Kitchen duties, _followed, oddly by _08:00 Education. _I glance at Gale questioningly.

'Education? Are they kidding?' I ask, laughing. He frowns at his own arm.

'I have that too. That's definitely weird,' he agrees. I smile a little at _12:00 Weapons testing_ and _15:00 Command. _These are both printed on Gale's arm too. After that it resumes to normal itineraries.

'This feels horribly like déjà vu,' I say to Gale, and absently scratch the area where the ink is stamped. He laughs and tugs me along into the canteen. By this time people have begun to file in, collecting their trays and waiting quietly for their food.

For the first time I wonder why these people still live underground. I ask Gale about this.

'VIPs and military personnel are the only people who still live down here; Paylor says it's safer for them because for a long time they've been working on taking down Locklyn. She's been a threat here for much longer than anywhere else.

'A few years back she managed to break in to the hovercraft hangar and her team stole loads of Thirteen's crafts. They had to make more really quickly. They had to make _better_ ones really quickly, so the originals couldn't be used against them,' he whispers.

Once we've collected our bowls of gruel and glass of milk we find an empty table and sit. It's not long before we're joined by Beetee who looks worn out and thin. I tell him about weapons testing and he nods, explaining that he helped to create a lot of the ones I'd be using today.

As we're talking I feel a tug at my sleeve and look around, expecting to see a soldier but my eyes fall on a little boy with enormous sea-green eyes, surrounded by a mass of dark eyelashes. I blink as I realise this is the son of Annie and Finnick Odair. I'd recognise those eyes anywhere. I see them in my dreams every night.

My breath catches in my throat as I look all around for Annie and I finally catch her eye. She sits a table across the room and is smiling sadly at me. I give her a tiny wave and look back to the little boy before me. I would never have realised who this child was if it wasn't for those eyes—an exact imitation of Finnick's.

Before I can move he throws his arms around my neck and whispers to me that he knows who I am and what I did for his daddy. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to break down on the spot. When he finally releases me, he rushes back to her mother's side, his copper hair glinting in the gleam from the overhead lights.

I turn back to the table and stare into my bowl of gruel.

'You okay?' Gale murmurs. I shake my head and watch as a tear splashes onto my tray. _He _doesn't believe I murdered Finnick. He believes I saved him from a much worse fate.

'Why are they here?' I manage to choke out. I'm desperately trying to stop myself breaking into floods of tears over breakfast.

'Thanks to Finnick and his status in the last rebellion, they're considered important enough to be put under protection,' Gale says.

'But there won't be _anything_ to protect them from!' I insist—I know this won't be like last time. Gale rolls his eyes and turns my face towards him.

'No one is taking that chance. Things are getting serious. Stop denying it. It will happen whether you want to believe it or not,' he says fiercely. I blink in surprise a few times, this is the most forceful I've seen Gale in a while.

Perhaps because I'm not in any life-threatening situation right now, whereas the last few times I've seen him I have been.

Someone coughs slightly from behind us and we both whip round to see Peeta, holding his tray, his eyes angry. I instantly begin to stand but Peeta doesn't even look at me so I drop back into my seat, hurt washing through me like a tsunami.

'Can I sit here?' he asks Beetee. Beetee looks at me, surprise in his eyes but nods and pulls out the chair on the other side from me. I struggle to find something to say but every time I open my mouth I see the anger on Peeta's face and forget my words.

Beetee attempts to make conversation but only he is willing to talk. Gale and Peeta do not say another word until Peeta stands, bids Beetee goodbye and leaves.

Beetee doesn't ask about the events that had just passed, which says a great deal about his tact. I can't bring myself to look at Gale because I don't think I want to know what I'll see when I look in his eyes.

I finish my meal but all the emotion of the last few days is catching up with me. A strange dizzing sensation shimmers through me so I put my hands on either side of my head in an attempt to hold the world straight. Both Gale and Beetee's mouths are moving but I can't hear a word they're saying over the rushing in my ears.

When the canteen begins flying past my eyes in a very unusual way, I finally let the dizziness take me and sink into oblivion.

I'm really beginning to get fed up of waking to find myself stuck in a strange place with needles sticking out of my arm. I try to open my eyes but nothing happens. Everything is black. This is new. Each time I've woken up in hospital I've always been able to see. At least, I think I'm in hospital. I can smell that sharp, anti-sceptic smell that I associate with hospitals and doctors.

I can hear someone talking. No, singing. The voice is so beautiful I spend a long time listening.

'_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…'_

The singer carries on through the next verses and I begin to wonder who could be singing so beautifully, and it only dawns on me later that this person knows all the words. This is a song my father taught me and I didn't think anyone else knew it.

Oh well, I think. I'm glad this unknown singer is here. It makes me feel safe, like I'm in the woods with my father again, or in front of the fire at home in The Village, or even curled up in Peeta's arms.

I need to stop thinking about these things—they hurt far too much to contemplate—so I just lie in the darkness listening to the voice until it finally stops and for a long time, there's nothing. But then, I hear footsteps. A door opening, the scuffle as someone pulls back a chair.

'How are you, beautiful? You're well today?' a voice asks. 'I'm good too.' There's a pause. Someone takes my hand. 'I forgot again. I forgot that I love you, again. It's this place. It makes me remember the flashbacks. Haymitch had to hold me down for ages while I screamed that I wanted to kill you. I'm sorry. You know I'd never hurt you?' The voice stops again. 'Not intentionally,' it carries on after the long pause. I want to open my eyes and answer the voice but I can't. At least I know Haymitch is still around. I hadn't seen him in a while.

'Effie stopped by today. They told her she couldn't see you. She wasn't happy. She did that thing with her hands and sighed a lot. You'd have loved it. It was funny.' More quiet. I'm smiling. I must be. I can feel myself smiling but there's no reaction from the voice so maybe he can't see it.

'You scared me. You know that? Why do I always seem to find you in hospitals? I leave for five minutes then I get a buzz on this ridiculous bracelet thing and someone's telling me you're not well or hurt.' Another silence. I feel his fingers stroking my face, pushing strands of hair away, then he gently brushes his fingers across my forehead and down my nose to my chin and gently caresses the nape of my neck. I need to react but my body won't move. Suddenly, the gentle fingers disappear.

'I have to go now, beautiful. Don't be too long. Come back soon. There's something we need to talk about. Don't forget, I love you.' His lips are on my mouth but I can't respond. _No! _I think. I don't want him to go. This is the closest we've been in the time after Gloriana and Robin's deaths. _Peeta, stay. I love you, _I think.

But he doesn't stay. I hear his footsteps receding and the door opening and closing behind him.

Soon though, I have another visitor. I hear the same noises but the footsteps are so light it can only be Gale. At first he doesn't say anything. He just holds my hand. Then I hear him shift forward in his chair slightly.

Now it is his turn to touch my face. I recognise the pattern he makes, touching my eyebrow, eyelashes, cheekbones and finally my mouth. He runs his fingers across my lips and I remember this is almost exactly the same thing I did to him after he'd been whipped in the square such a long time ago by Romulus Thread, the brutal Peacekeeper.

'Ugh, Katniss. What have you done to yourself?' Gale's voice sighs exasperatedly. I smile again. Gale is so different from Peeta in so many ways. 'You spend more time in hospital than you do out if it. If you'd just let go of the past, you'd stop putting your brain and body through so much trauma. Let go of him, Katniss. For me. Please.' For a while I wonder what he can mean until it hits me quite abruptly that he's talking about Peeta.

Shock courses through me and Gale carries on.

'You saw how he behaved the other day. He sees me as a threat because I am one. If you open your eyes you'll see that you love me too,' he says sadly. _I do love you, _I want to tell him, but I can't make my lips work. And besides, I don't have any right to tell him that. I'm outraged at myself for even thinking it.

I can't hurt him or Peeta. 'You save me every day Katniss. If you'll just pay attention!' his voice gets more strident. 'You need to see that it's not just Peeta that's good for you. I know that's why you chose him over me. Because you think he's good for you. I see you the way you really are. Not the idealised way he sees you. And I love you anyway.' After that Gale doesn't say anything more. But I lie there, trying to take it all in.

He holds my hand for about an hour and sometimes he strokes my face but he doesn't speak again. Gale loves me. Peeta loves me. I love them both. I want to scream but I_ can't! _Nothing more happens until something cold slithers into my arm and I start to slip away again.

_Not yet! I've not thought everything through yet!_ I don't even get to finish the thought and I'm gone.

However, when I'm next aware of my surroundings, I find I can move and look around. I don't yet but I know that when I want to I'll be able. There's only one drip attached to my arm now, rather than several.

At first I don't notice the hand in mine because it's been there a long time. I don't open my eyes yet. I'm not sure I want to know whose hand I'm holding. It's time. I start to open my eyes. The pressure on my hand increases and someone sits up straighter.

'Katniss!' my visitor cries. It's neither Peeta nor Gale. It's my mother. 'I'm so glad to see your eyes! I've been staring at your eyelids for quite a while.' I smile at her weakly and attempt to sit up. She firmly pushes me back down. 'No. You've had too much morphling and you're not quite in control yet,' she tells me.

'Why did I need morphling?' I say, my words slurring. I shake my head and try to clear my tongue of the cloying, novocaine taste.

'Emotional stress. Sometimes when a person's mind becomes too overstretched they just shut down and go into a kind of protective coma. They gave you sleep syrup because you kept having screaming fits and thrashing around. The morphling was for the cuts and bruises you made on your arms from the bars on your bed. They took them off after the sleep syrup to stop you hurting yourself more.

'You managed to hurt your wrists though, so they had to attach you to the table. This is all while you were unconscious.' I stare at her uncomprehendingly. 'You gave us all quite a fright with the screaming,' she says, laughing unsteadily. I look around the room to see Effie and Haymitch sitting slightly further away and watching me apprehensively as though I would begin screaming again. I rub my forearm and find a plastic bracelet that reads _MENTALLY UNSTABLE. _I frown. This was starting to feel scarily like the last time I was here but the last time I was just considered disoriented.

I look at my mother worriedly but she just shakes her head and turns the bracelet. The word _TEMPORARY _comes after it in slightly smaller lettering. I release my breath. I look around again but I see neither Gale nor Peeta.

'They're not here, Katniss,' Haymitch tells me. I look at him and disappointment weighs heavy in my stomach. I know I shouldn't but I need them both. 'They're in weapons testing. After that they're in training until dinner. They're only allowed to visit during reflection.'

'So, how are you all here?' I ask him.

'Because we're here on special Capitol business,' Effie says as though the idea that she'd be doing anything less is preposterous.

'And I'm your mother, I get special permission from the President herself,' my mother says brusquely. I push myself up slowly, taking a few disapproving glances from my mother.

'So how long have I been out?' I ask, feeling the stiffness in my muscles and running my hands over the knots in my hair.

'A week,' Haymitch says. 'You've missed a whole lot of training time.'

'What exactly am I training for?' I ask. He grins wickedly.

'We're sending you out to the Districts to rally soldiers. But you'll need to be able to defend yourself if it comes down to it. Just accept this is what you'll be doing,' he says when he sees me starting to protest.

'So, in honour of this, we brought in your prep team and a stylist,' Effie says. I freeze. Another stylist.

'I don't want a stylist,' I say right away. Effie immediately begins pointing out my lack of style and fashion sense and how I will never be able to dress myself appropriately.

'Flavius can do it,' I say adamantly.

'No, Flavius isn't a stylist. He's a glorified beautician,' Haymitch growls. He's angry from the lack of alcohol. I glare at him.

'Flavius picked my interview outfits. I won't have any other stylist. I won't wear whatever they give me. Get me Flavius. Now!' I snap. My mother squeezes my hand and leaves the room. I slump down onto the bed.

'The doctors said you weren't to get too stressed out,' Effie says flapping about my bed, arranging my pillows and pushing me down, under the covers.

I let her fix my bed and continue to scowl at Haymitch.

'Maybe Haymitch should leave. He stresses me out,' I snap. Haymitch snorts and throws a coffee cup in the bin. 'Coffee?' I question. He grimaces at the inoffensive looking cup.

'It's the strongest stuff they'll give me and I had to threaten the kitchen staff to get it,' he replies sulkily. I roll my eyes as my mother and Flavius come back into the room.

'Hi, Flavius,' I say and he comes straight to my bedside.

'Hi, Katniss. How are you?' he asks, his eyes darting around the room. I couldn't blame him for being a little nervous here. The last time they were here they'd been shackled to the walls and left to rot until I'd rescued them.

'I'm fine. Listen, Flavius. I want you to be my stylist. I trust you and they're trying to force me into getting a new one,' I say earnestly, leaning forward. His eyes widen and he sits down at the edge of my bed in my mother's vacated seat. He shakes his head slowly, his curls bouncing.

'I can't, Katniss. I couldn't do it…' his voice trails away.

'Yes, you can! You styled me for the Remembrance Day interviews,' I remind him. He just looks at me.

'It was a desperate time, and I got it wrong the first time round. You had to tell me to rein myself in. I don't think I—'

'You can do it. I believe in you,' I say cutting him off. He nods once and his eyes fill up with tears. I throw my arms around him. I do love my prep team. I've known them for so long and you can't possibly dislike them. Flavius excuses himself, telling me he's sorry for the tears and thanking me for the opportunity.

I smile to myself. At least I can make some people happy. A grim-faced doctor comes in and forces everyone to leave. I wave goodbye to my company and she checks my drip and needle.

'What is this? In this drip?' I ask her. She doesn't turn.

'It's a drug to keep your emotions in check, but we're not sure if it's working yet. We'll need to take more readings to see if it's helping you at all.'

This makes no impression on me so I just lie down again. I can't sleep so I begin unravelling the threads on my rough woollen blankets. The solitary window in the room lets in just enough light for me to tell when dawn and dusk comes.

I spend the rest of the day lying on my side watching the light shaft on the wall opposite from the window getting higher and higher as the sun starts to set. When I gauge it to be about six o'clock the door slides open. I don't turn over to see the doctor come in.

'You can move!' Gale's voice says in surprise. I turn over to look at him. He's cradling his arm.

'What happened to you?' I ask, sitting up. He glances down at it like he'd forgotten it was there.

'Oh, it got hit in weapons testing. New knives. They told me to come to the hospital but I snuck out to the private wards to see you,' he grins. I can't help but smile back.

He comes to my side and puts his arm on the bed.

'Here, I'll get you a bandage,' I say and look about. Gale's arm is bleeding heavily and it's making me sick looking at it. There aren't any bandages in the ward so I go to the door and sneak down the hallway to the supplies closet, take a long bandage, a tube of antiseptic cream and a little box of painkillers.

I run back to the room barefoot, closing the door behind me hurriedly. I take Gale's arm in my hand and tear a strip of gauze away from the end of the bandage and use it to clean the wound with the cream.

'You're quite good at this stuff,' he says, watching my fingers work.

'But what you don't know is that I'm battling the urge to be sick,' I tell him. Once his arm is bandaged he throws himself down on the edge of my bed.

'You need to brush your hair,' he says holding up a strand of my messy hair. I run my fingers through it and tuck it down the back of my hospital gown.

'I need to do a lot of things. No doubt my prep team will be all over me before the week is out though. Don't worry,' I say, sighing. He smiles again.

'So when are we doing these aid rallies?' I ask.

'Next week or the one after, I think. No one's sure yet. We wanted to see when you'd be ready before we sent you out,' he says. I roll my eyes.

'I'm fine,' I promise him. He raises his eyes to mine and I see him laughing at me.

'You're just out of a coma!' he says. I frown, trying not to laugh, and whack his arm.

'I'll be fine soon,' I say petulantly, 'and when I am, you're getting it.' He pretends to shy away.

'Wow, I'm terrified,' he sniggers.

'Shut it,' I warn him. 'What time is it? I've been guessing all day.' He looks down at his watch.

'Twenty past six. Why do you want to know?'

I shake my head. I couldn't possibly tell Gale that I'm hoping for a visit from Peeta during reflection. All I know is that reflection is between seven and seven thirty. I want to tell someone what I'm feeling, but I can almost guarantee Gale could make a guess and I could probably count on one hand the tries it would take for him to get it right.

So, I don't bring it up. I also want to ask about the things he said to me during my unconscious period but I know that if he doesn't bring it up, he doesn't want to talk about it. I can understand that but I think the situation here is slightly different. He's asking me to leave Peeta behind and trust that everything will just work out.

I can't do it. Yes, I love Gale, but Peeta is Peeta and it's difficult to be away from him. And yes I love Peeta, but Gale knows me the best out of everyone in the entire world. Peeta will never judge me but perhaps he does put me on a pedestal. Gale however sees me for the person I really am. What about Peeta's judgement of the little I did to save our children? If I choose Gale then it would kill Peeta even though I never really thought about what I did to Gale when I chose Peeta in the beginning.

I shove all these thoughts out of my head when I realise Gale is speaking to me and waiting for an answer to his question.

'Sorry? What did you say?' I ask him, shaking my head.

'I was asking how you like the bow Beetee made for you, but I think you're somewhere else. Earth to Katniss?' he says, poking me in the ribs. I bat his hand away.

'Yeah, it's great. Great balance, good distance, good stuff…' I trail off, my mind still wandering. He frowns at me and flicks me in the side of the head.

'What's going on?' he demands. I blink and look at him, my eyes wide and innocent.

'Nothing, I'm just a bit tired,' I say, desperately trying not let him see how convoluted my thoughts are. If he sees just one bit of my emotions he'll be able to read me like a book and I don't want him to know what I'm thinking right now.

'Oh, do you want me to go?' he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. I'm surprised he'd jump to that and I automatically reach out and grab his hand away from his shoulder.

'No! Stay. I'm just going to lie down but don't worry, I won't go to sleep,' I say, pulling my cover up to my neck. He rolls his eyes.

'Sleep, Katniss. I won't leave,' he tells me, fixing the edge of my cover. I yawn and nod. It's kind of ridiculous how tired I am, considering all I've done recently is sleep.

I quickly fall asleep only to have a very strange dream that consists mostly of darkness and Gale's voice. I frown; this is a very odd dream. For one thing, I never normally know I'm dreaming, but in this case I do.

'I'm here because she told me not to leave her, so I won't,' Gale's voice whispers harshly.

'Well, you need to get out. I want to speak to her,' Peeta's voice replies.

'What do you not understand? If she'd wanted you to be here she'd have asked someone to get you. She wants me, not you,' he spits.

'She doesn't know what she wants. She's not all right just now. Haven't you noticed she's just out of a coma? And anyway, I'm pretty sure _I _am married to her and you are not,' Peeta hisses back. There is a pressure around my hand as though several people are pulling me at once.

'Let go, Peeta,' Gale warns, his voice menacing.

'I'm so fed up of you always being in the way of us. If she'd wanted you she would have chosen you years ago. I almost killed you once, don't make me do it for real this time,' Peeta says, a razor edge in his voice that would send shivers down even Gale's spine.

'Don't even go there, you might be hers now, but how long do you think that will last when it comes down to who can save her life and who can't? When we're in the field you won't be able to look after her, so guess who'll be there to do it for you? Me. Just the way I always have been,' Gale returns.

'You haven't been there for her at all over the last few years! She might have trusted you once but it's not the same anymore. She's moved on from you. You have to know that by now. She'll never choose you because she's not safe. Katniss has always looked to those who can protect her and do you honestly think that what she wants the most is to run around fighting wars for the rest of her life? She told me not one month ago that she can't go more than a few hours without me. Make of that what you will,' he taunts.

I grimace. There's something very wrong with this dream. It's too realistic.

'You think it doesn't hurt me every day that I can't see her? That I can't hold her in my arms the way I used to, before she met you? Our relationship used to be so easy. I should have told her I'd run away with her when she asked. At least you'd have been out the picture.'

Peeta goes quiet.

'She asked you to run away with her?' he whispers. 'When?'

'Just before the rebellion, she asked if I'd go and live in the forest with her,' Gale replies and I hear the smile in his voice. Peeta laughs a derisive laugh.

'I have spent every waking minute, and plenty of sleeping ones protecting her. There is not five minutes that goes by that I'm not thinking about her. For me, it's always been her. For you, well, let's just say you certainly didn't want her until someone else did. You're jealous,' Peeta hisses.

'Don't you dare assume to know how I feel about her! She was twelve when we met; I was fourteen, which just wouldn't have been right! She was a child to me!'

Peeta sighs. 'You're going to wake her, you idiot. I'll leave because it's been a while since she had a full night's sleep. I know this because she's scared about the deaths of _our_ children and she feels guilty even though it's not her fault. I bet you didn't know that did you?' Peeta says, turns on his heel and disappears from my dream.

_Peeta! _I call. As often happens in dreams, he doesn't come back. I try to run after him but my feet can't move fast enough and then there are arms around my waist, pulling me close to a strong chest, in the opposite direction from Peeta.

'_It's okay,' _murmurs the dream Gale, '_I promise I'll keep you safe.' _And I believe him.

The next morning I start awake, memories of last night's dream flooding back to me instantaneously. I look all around me and there's a blonde figure on the edge of my bed, shoulders rising and falling gently as he sleeps. I reach out a hand slowly, testing to see if this Peeta will vanish as the dream one did.

I place my hand on his hair and gently stroke the sun brightened waves. This Peeta is real. I wend my fingers into his hair and it falls like water through the gaps between them. I amuse myself with this for a long time, then I move on to his face, which lies with his right side facing up and his left on the covers. I stroke his cheek and then I bend down very slowly and brush his lips with mine, tangling one hand in his hair.

Fire shoots through me and my fingers fly to my lips. Heat blossoms in my chest and radiates out to every point in my body. A huge smile spreads across my face as Peeta's eyes shoot open and he sits up, his own hand on his lips. His blue eyes look startled but gentle.

He sees my grin and I extract my hand from his hair. He smiles his dazzling grin back at me and I shove my covers back and leap on him. His chair tips back and we both end up sprawled on the floor, laughing. I kiss his jaw and he reaches over the back of the chair and sets it upright.

He pulls me close to him and we lie on the floor kissing and giggling.

'I've missed you,' I say in between kisses. He just mumbles something and carries on kissing my lips, neck, and any part of me he can reach.

'I don't know how many times I have to promise you I'll never leave you until I actually keep it. I'm sorry I keep leaving. I won't do it again,' he tells me, caressing my face.

'I don't care about all those times, I'm just glad to have you back,' I whisper. It takes a lot of effort and even more time for us to stop kissing each other but we know we need to get off the floor.

'Can we get out of here?' I ask. Peeta looks thoughtful for a minute.

'Probably not. Wait here,' and with that he gives me a final peck on the lips and hurries out of the door.

I turn away and rub my lips again, butterflies fluttering their wings in my stomach. A huge, ridiculous grin covers my face again as I pull my gown tighter around me, my palms and forehead slick. I put my arms around myself and spin once on the spot, dizziness taking me again. Not the kind of dizziness that induced a week long coma but a good kind that makes my fingers tingle and my heart light.

The door opens and Peeta rushes to me, scoops me up in his arms, ignoring my squeals and runs out the room. I start laughing so he puts his lips to mine to quiet me. After that I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing as we hide around corners, looking for guards and then belting down the corridor before we're caught.

We finally reach our cabin and get the door open before falling onto the bed where we can lie together in comfort. I drink him in, running my hands all over his face, neck and chest, taking in every detail that I know I've already memorised but I do it again because I know that whatever happens I'll always want these memories. And, in that moment I know I want Peeta.

I think I've always known it would be Peeta. His blue eyes pierce my soul and send shivers down my arms and legs. His hand slides down my leg and pulls it up to his waist, twisting so that we're even closer.

'This hospital gown isn't the nicest thing I've ever worn,' I whisper. He laughs and pauses.

'You don't have to wear it you know,' he murmurs, his lips against my neck. His fingers slide along the neckline, leaving a line of heat across my skin that gives me goose-bumps and hook under the seam, pulling it away from my skin. I tremble, my stomach drops and he laughs into my neck.

'You're right about that,' I reply softly.

'Katniss? Before this goes any further … I have to tell you something.'

'Yes?' I ask, a little alarmed by the grave tone of his voice.

He sits up, pulling me with him. I rest my chin on his shoulder and watch him expectantly. 'This last week, while you were in hospital, I've been planning Robin and Gloriana's funeral.'

The playful atmosphere of mere moments ago vanishes abruptly. I just watch him as his face crumples and the pain that was so obvious back in the Capitol hospital makes its appearance again. I press my mouth into his shoulder and inhale his scent which anchors me down a little.

'And?'

'And Paylor has agreed to let us have a little ceremony above ground. They never found their bodies in the wreck…' his voice fades and I wrap my arm around him, trying to swallow the painful lump that is rising in my throat. 'So we're going to bury the coffins. She says it has to be short because we aren't allowed to stay above ground for long with Locklyn on the loose.'

Locklyn Snow. She will pay for what she's done. Children. She murdered two innocent children in cold blood. Just like her father. And just like her father, her life is mine.

'When is the funeral?' I ask, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

Peeta swallows hard and brushes my cheek with his thumb. 'Tomorrow. That's why you needed to know.'

'OK,' I say.

We need this closure. We never got the chance to say goodbye.

The next day we are dressed in our usual grey, standing by the little pile of earth that conceals the two empty, child-size coffins. Peeta's arm is around my shoulders and I feel like I am falling. I feel like the ground has disappeared from under me and my body is folding in on itself. Though it has been nearly a month since they died, this makes it feel real. And reality is so much more painful.

Gloriana's blue eyes waver in front of me, right alongside Robin's grey ones. Their exhilarated laughs and their calls for Peeta and I to play with them float back to me without my permission.

When we turn around to go back inside, leaving the little bunches of flowers on their graves, Haymitch, Gale, Effie, my prep team, my mother, a few District 13 officials and Paylor are all gathered a little distance away, watching us solemnly.

When Peeta makes to move past them, I stop and look Paylor directly in the eye.

'Whatever you need from me, I'm in. Locklyn Snow will die. And I want to be the one to do it.'


End file.
